


hard times for dreamers

by sundays



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Nudity, Physical Abuse, Recovery, Servants, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, mention of watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-18 20:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20319193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundays/pseuds/sundays
Summary: Mark is a newly-acquired pleasure slave, Eduardo is his caretaker (e.g. preparing him and bringing him to the chamber when summoned, cleaning him after the master is done with him, etc.), and they can touch, but if they ~touch, they're dead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almostmagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostmagic/gifts).

> happy late birthday, almostmagic!
> 
> For the [kinkmeme prompt](https://tsn-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/9251.html?thread=19732515#cmt19732515).
> 
> this is set in some kind of vaguely-defined renaissance / medieval time period? and alas, i have made no real effort to be historically accurate.
> 
> eduardo is 20 and mark is 19 (which they say in the first chapter but idk, just to be clear lol)
> 
> **fic-wide warnings:** slavery, abuse, repeated instances of rape
> 
> there is no rape/non-con/dub-con between mark and eduardo at any point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** some physical abuse, reference to death in childbirth

Master Thiel is supposed to be out horseback riding in the snow when Eduardo is unexpectedly summoned, alone, to the master's chamber.

Eduardo expects nothing good to come from such a summons, and his disquiet only intensifies when he finds a guard posted outside the room. Eduardo hesitates, but the guard just opens the door and motions for him to step inside. Eduardo enters, with some trepidation, only to see another guard standing across the bedroom.

"Eduardo! There you are," says Master Thiel, reclined in his bed. He's still dressed in his horse-riding clothes, and he's smiling, which is rare.

"Good morning, Master," Eduardo responds, bowing his head slightly.

Master Thiel beckons to him. "Come here," he says. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Eduardo frowns. 

"Come," prompts Master Thiel. "To the other side of the bed."

Eduardo obeys. 

And there, sitting on the floor beside the bed, a few feet away from the guard, is a curly-haired boy about Eduardo's age, dressed in rags, gnawing at what looks to be a giant turkey leg. His wrists are tied together tightly with rope, which makes his grip on the turkey awkward, but he seems unfazed by that. He shoots Eduardo a momentary glance, hard and mistrustful, then keeps biting off hunks of meat.

"Eduardo, meet my new pleasure slave," says Master Thiel from the bed.

Eduardo looks over at his master. "Sir?"

"I found him myself," Master Thiel goes on, sounding almost proud. "He was asleep in the stables. I would have thrown him out into the snow, but then I saw his lips. They're perfect." He pauses, and peers down over the side of the bed. "Boy," he says. "Quit stuffing your face and show Eduardo your perfect lips."

"Fuck you," says the boy, continuing to devour the turkey.

"So you _can_ speak."

"Of course I can fucking speak."

"Kick him," Master Thiel tells the guard, who promptly does so. 

The boy barely flinches at the kick, and doesn't stop eating.

"He's quite a brat," Master Thiel says, glancing at Eduardo. "Wouldn't stop fighting till I had a plate of food brought up for him. I'll punish him for it tonight." Then he turns his attention back to the guard. "Take my new slave to the nursery," he orders.

"The— the nursery, sir?"

"Yes, that's to be his room for the time being," says Master Thiel, a warning note in his voice. _Don't question me._ "Lock him inside and then report back to your post; you're not to stay with him."

"Yes sir," says the guard immediately, grabbing the boy and yanking him to his feet. The boy squirms a bit, but doesn't really protest, just keeps chewing at whatever shards of flesh are left on the turkey bone as he's marched from the room.

The door closes, and Eduardo is left alone with Master Thiel. "Master," he says dutifully, lowering his eyes.

"Eduardo. You're to go wash up the slave," Master Thiel tells him brusquely. "He's filthy, and I want him immaculately clean from head to toe; do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Leave him locked in the nursery when you're done, and I'll call for you to fetch him for me tonight."

"Should he be... naked, sir?" Eduardo asks quietly.

Master Thiel seems to consider this for a moment. "No," he says at last. "Take one of my shirts and dress him in that. And leave his hands tied; I don't want anyone getting hurt."

"Yes, Master." Eduardo hesitates, then dares to ask, "Should I light the fire for him, sir? It's— it's very cold."

"Do as you see fit," says Master Thiel, waving a hand dismissively. "What matters is that he's clean."

"Yes, Master," says Eduardo, heading to the dresser and withdrawing a suitable shirt from one of the ornately-carved drawers.

"And Eduardo," says Master Thiel.

Eduardo turns. "Yes, sir?"

"This goes without saying, but you are not, under any circumstances, to _touch_ him. Not intimately. No one is to touch him that way except me; do you understand this?"

"Of course, Master," says Eduardo, inclining his head.

"Good. Then go," commands Master Thiel.

So Eduardo goes.

***

Eduardo hasn't been in the nursery for five months, not since the lady of the manor died in childbirth and took the baby with her. 

He takes a deep breath, slides the bolt on the exterior lock, and enters. Everything is just as Eduardo remembered it: crib, wardrobe, table, chairs.

The boy is sitting in the back corner of the room, sucking on the turkey bone, his knees drawn up toward his chest. He's shivering.

Eduardo sets Master Thiel's shirt on a chair near the door. "Hello," he says cautiously. "My name's—"

Before he can say anything else, the boy jumps to his feet and sprints toward the door, where he begins to fumble at the doorknob with his bound hands.

"Stop," says Eduardo sharply. He moves in front of the door.

The boy glares at him and tries, unsuccessfully, to pull it open.

"Hey. Listen to me," Eduardo says through gritted teeth, now pressing all his weight against the door. "You can run, okay, but the manor's filled with guards; someone's going to catch you. And Master Thiel is _not_ going to be happy if you try to escape. He'll punish us both, okay?"

"I don't give a fuck," says the boy, still pulling.

"You should."

"I don't."

"Are you hungry?" asks Eduardo, a bit desperately.

The boy falters.

"Yeah, you are, huh? Look, if you stay here and behave, I'll get you more food," Eduardo tries. "How's that sound?"

The boy drops his hands from the doorknob. "Fine," he says bitterly.

"Good. What do you want?" asks Eduardo. "Stew? Bread? Fish? Another turkey leg?"

"Turkey leg," mutters the boy.

"Alright," says Eduardo. "Uh. Just sit down. And stay put. And I'll get you a turkey leg. Okay?"

The boy sits down, glowering at Eduardo.

Eduardo opens the door slowly, and the boy doesn't move.

"Right," says Eduardo. "Just— stay there. I'll be back."

The boy nods, and Eduardo makes his exit, bolting the door behind him as he leaves.

***

He returns from the kitchens a quarter of an hour later carrying a piping hot turkey leg in a napkin. He holds it out to the boy, who grabs it with his tied hands and begins to eat just as ravenously as before. Eduardo leaves him to it, and goes to light the fire in the fireplace.

"My name's Eduardo," he offers, glancing back as he stokes the flames.

The boy says nothing, just glares.

"What's yours?" prompts Eduardo.

There's a long pause as the boy chews and swallows, his eyes still narrowed suspiciously.

Eduardo holds his gaze, and at last the boy looks away. "Mark," he mumbles, taking another bite of turkey.

"Mark," repeats Eduardo. "How old are you?"

Mark gives a small shrug. "Nineteen," he says. "I think."

"I'm twenty," says Eduardo, sitting down. "Come here," he adds, and Mark scowls, but scoots over to the fire.

"Listen, I've been with Master Thiel since I was nine," says Eduardo, softly. "And he's a pretty decent master, if you obey him."

Mark scoffs. "I don't care how decent he is," he says, suddenly looking Eduardo straight in the eye. "I'm not gonna be a fucking pleasure slave; I'm just not."

Eduardo offers him a small, sad smile. "I mean, it's— it's better than freezing to death in a stable, right?"

"I wasn't freezing to death in the stable; that's _why_ I was in the stable; to _keep_ from freezing." Mark shifts even closer to the fireplace. "The roof kept the snow off. And the horses were warm." 

Eduardo frowns. He can't imagine that the stable did much to keep out the chill, and Mark isn't really dressed for winter: his clothes consist of a ragged tunic and a threadbare, oversized coat. His shins are bare, and he doesn't have any proper shoes on; his feet are wrapped in strips of snow-sodden fabric.

Mark hunches his shoulders under Eduardo's gaze. "What?" he asks dully.

"Have you been living outside all winter?" asks Eduardo.

"I've been living outside for the past four years."

"Oh." Eduardo bites his lip. "You don't have any family, or...?"

"No."

"I'm sorry," says Eduardo.

Mark shrugs. "Can you untie my hands?" he asks, setting aside the napkin and now-bare turkey bone and holding out his arms.

Eduardo looks away. "Uh. No, I can't, Master Thiel said—"

Mark scoffs. "Right. And you could never obey your master, could you?"

"Mark—"

Mark stands up. "Fuck you," he says. "I'm getting out of here."

And before Eduardo can stop him, he runs for the door, opens it clumsily, and slips away.

And just like that, Mark is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading; more to come! please leave a comment?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** physical abuse, mentions of blood, descriptions of injury, vague references to rape

Eduardo hurries to the door, only to find that Mark has locked him inside the nursery.

So he sighs and flops down in the nearest chair, cursing himself, his heart racing.

It isn't long before he hears commotion of some sort downstairs: raised voices, clattering. Then the noise dies away.

***

Time passes slowly. At last there comes the sound of the nursery door being unbolted, and Master Thiel enters the room.

He looks furious.

Eduardo bows his head.

"You let him escape," Master Thiel growls.

"Yes, Master."

"Stand up."

Eduardo stands, and Master Thiel backhands him once on each side of the face.

"I'm sorry, Master," Eduardo murmurs, his ears ringing. He pauses, glances up. "Did they catch him? Sir?" he asks then, and despite what it would mean for the harshness of his own punishment, he almost hopes the answer is no.

"Of course they did," snaps Master Thiel. "I'm going down to deal with him shortly."

"Yes, Master."

"You stay here and wait for him to be brought back up. Then you are to clean him as we discussed." 

"Yes, Master."

"I'll have his feet bound, but you're not to let him escape again." _Or else_, says his tone.

Eduardo lowers his eyes. "No, Master. I won't, I promise, Master."

"Good." Master Thiel slaps him again, harder this time, so that his rings break the skin of Eduardo's cheek. Then he turns on his heel and leaves the room without another word.

And Eduardo sits down, and touches his smarting cheek, and waits.

***

It's a long, long time before Mark is brought back, dragged through the door by two guards, who throw him into the room. Mark, unable to break the fall with his bound hands, is sent sprawling across the floor.

The guards leave silently, slamming the door closed behind them, and Eduardo approaches Mark's prone form.

"Mark," he says. "Shit, are you alright?"

Mark says nothing, just lies there against the tile floor, breathing shallowly.

Eduardo crouches by Mark's side, peers at his face. It's a mess: his cheeks are crusted with blood, his nose is actively bleeding, and both his eyes are bruised. His lips, Eduardo can't help but notice, are unscathed.

"Master Thiel can be violent, when he's disobeyed," Eduardo offers quietly, uselessly.

Mark opens his eyes, squints up at Eduardo. "I noticed," he says. Then he grimaces, like it hurts to talk.

"Is anything broken?" asks Eduardo.

"I don't know. Ribs, maybe. Probably just bruised though."

"Did he whip you?"

"No, just kicked mainly."

"Can you stand?"

"I think." Mark coughs, and blood comes out.

Eduardo frowns. "Here, let me— let me bring a chair over to the fire. You can sit there while I go fetch some water and some stuff for your injuries."

Mark sort of nods at that, so Eduardo stands up and drags an armchair to the hearth. Then he helps Mark get to his knees, then up to his feet, and guides him toward the fireplace. They go slowly, since Mark's ankles are tightly bound now, making it hard for him to walk. But eventually they reach the chair, and Mark sits down gingerly.

"There," says Eduardo. "Now you just sit tight and I'll be back soon, okay?" He touches Mark's back, and Mark flinches, then nods.

So Eduardo leaves, and bolts the door, though he can't imagine Mark would try to run away a second time.

***

He goes downstairs and fetches an empty tin basin and a bar of soap from the kitchen, then walks to the corridor at the far end of the manor, where Dustin's room is located. Dustin is an apothecary; he'll have something for Mark.

Eduardo knocks, and Dustin answers the door smiling.

"How can I help you, young friend?" he asks.

"There's a new slave," says Eduardo. "He tried to run and Master Thiel beat him. Uh, badly."

Dustin's smile falters.

"I need— medicine, maybe something to help the pain and swelling?" Eduardo goes on.

"He hit you too, didn't he?"

"What?"

"Your cheek is bleeding."

"Oh." Eduardo had forgotten. "Yeah, but it doesn't hurt."

Dustin pats him sympathetically on the shoulder. "I'll get what you need," he says.

He putters around the room, gathering a few of bottles from his extensive shelves, then arrays them on his desk and beckons for Eduardo to approach.

"First have him drink the blue bottle for pain relief," he says, picking up a sapphire-colored bottle with a cork stopper.

"The whole thing?"

"The whole thing," Dustin affirms. "It should take about a half hour to begin working."

Eduardo nods.

"And then over here we have our ointments," Dustin continues. "This green bottle contains something that will numb the pain topically," he says, pointing. "It takes effect instantly. You can use it on bruises, cuts, anything." Then he picks up the third bottle, a glistening red one. "Whereas the cream in here will help with bleeding and swelling," he says. He gives a satisfied nod. "And that should do the trick."

"Thank you," says Eduardo. 

"And don't forget your own cheek too."

"I won't." Eduardo collects the colored glass bottles and puts them in the basin, then clears his throat. "Sir?" he says tentatively.

"Yes?"

"The new slave, he's going to be a pleasure slave."

Dustin scowls. "For Master Thiel?"

"Yes, and I'm worried he'll be in pain, afterward, in—" He hesitates. "You know."

Dustin nods sadly, and grabs another bottle, orange this time. "Use this internally to heal tearing," he says. "And the green bottle can still be used, to numb pain, but don't put it inside. And—" He pulls a second blue bottle off the shelf. "And he can drink another dose of this." He places the two additional bottles into Eduardo's basin, a grim expression on his face.

"Thank you," Eduardo says again. "I'm— I'm sure this will make things more bearable."

"I wish there was more I could do to help," says Dustin.

Eduardo nods, and lowers his eyes. "I know," he says. "Me too."

***

After that he goes to the linen closet, where he collects an assortment of towels, the softest ones he can find. Then he returns to the kitchen, grabs a bucket of water, ignores the cook's protests, and heads back up the stairs, laden with supplies.

***

When he reenters the nursery, he finds Mark just as he'd left him, sitting in the chair by the fire. He sets down the basin and the bucket nearby.

"Hey," he says.

Mark hums in response.

"I got you some stuff for your wounds, like I said," Eduardo tells him, pulling up a chair beside him.

Mark glances over.

Eduardo reaches down and grabs the little blue bottle. "First drink this; it'll help with the pain," he says, holding it out. He expects a suspicious look from Mark, but none comes: Mark takes the bottle and downs it without hesitation.

"Okay," says Eduardo. "So that'll take thirty minutes to start working. And then... uh, I'm going to wash the blood off your face." He takes a linen towel and dips it in the bucket of water. "May I?" he asks.

Again, he expects Mark to protest, but Mark just nods tiredly, doesn't even try to glare. It's such a contrast from Mark's initial willful defiance that Eduardo feels his heart constrict with concern.

"Mark," he says softly. "Don't give up."

Mark just stares at him blankly.

"You're going to be alright," Eduardo goes on. "I've been here eleven years, and it gets... better. You can get used to it. But you can't give up." He takes Mark's dirty hand in his own and squeezes tightly. "Promise me you won't give up."

Mark blinks, then nods, and Eduardo sees something spark behind his eyes. "I don't fucking give up," he says, snatching the towel from Eduardo with his still-bound hands. "Ever. And I'll clean my own face."

Eduardo smiles, watches as Mark rubs roughly at the blood on his cheeks.

Mark is strong, he decides, but he needs to be protected. And Eduardo knows, deep down, that he won't be able to protect him, not from everything.

But he intends to try all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i hope this chapter wasn't too boring? please leave a comment and kudos if you feel so inclined.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** mention of blood, mention of lice, referenced past (underage) rape, mention of prostitution, mention of death in childbirth

After Mark has wiped his face clean of blood, he allows Eduardo to apply ointment from the red and green bottles to the cuts on his cheeks and the bruised skin around his eyes. Eduardo works as gently as he can, and Mark sits still.

"There, does that feel better?" Eduardo says at last, re-corking the bottles.

"Yes," Mark admits. He shifts a little. 

For a while they're both silent.

"Now what?" Mark asks then.

"Now, um." Eduardo realizes, suddenly, that there's no way to remove Mark's clothes while his hands are bound; Master Thiel must not have thought of that. "Uh, I'll untie your hands," he says slowly, "and you can undress, and then we'll get you all washed up."

"Washed up?"

Eduardo nods. "I have some water here, and soap, and—"

"What, so I'm ready for your _master_?" Mark cuts him off, his eyes flint, his tone brash, but there's a note of fear somewhere in his voice.

"Don't think about that," says Eduardo. "Just—"

"Don't _think _about it?" says Mark. "I'm about to get fucked by some violent fucking creep and I'm supposed to not _think_ about it?"

Eduardo bites his lip. "Mark, it's easier if you just—"

"No," says Mark, standing up from the chair. "No, I'm not getting undressed." He eyes the door for a moment, like he's contemplating making a break for it again, and Eduardo grabs his arm.

"Mark," he says in a low voice. "Don't make things worse for yourself. Please."

They stare at each other for a moment, both breathing heavily, until at last Mark wrenches his arm from Eduardo's grasp.

But he doesn't run.

"Fine," he says, presenting his bound hands. "You can untie me. And you can wash me or whatever; I don't care. But I'm not gonna let your master touch me; you'll see." His eyes are on fire, and Eduardo says nothing, just unties the bindings to reveal Mark's pale wrists, rubbed raw by the rope.

Mark's eyes remain fixed on Eduardo's face as he sheds his filthy coat and pulls off his tunic, dropping them in a heap at his feet.

Then he's naked, and fuck, the entire right side of his body is mottled red and purple, from his chest down to his thigh.

"Mark," breathes Eduardo. "Shit. Here." He quickly hands Mark the green bottle. "Put this everywhere it hurts."

So Mark shakes a copious amount of ointment onto his hand and slathers it over his ribs, his collarbone, his stomach, his leg. 

He gives the bottle back to Eduardo when he's finished and stands there, naked, his arms crossed uncomfortably.

He's too thin, Eduardo can't help but notice. His ribs stick out. And Master Thiel was right, he's filthy: there's dirt on his hands, mud on his legs, lice in his hair. He smells like horse shit.

"Come on, let's go in here," says Eduardo, grabbing the basin, bucket, soap, and towels. He beckons for Mark to follow him.

So Mark shuffles along, his ankles still tied, and together they enter the nursery's washroom. There's a tub on one side of the room and a table on the other, containing a mirror, a china pitcher, a fine-toothed comb, an ivory cup— all gifts for the baby who never came.

"Take the rags off your feet," Eduardo instructs.

"They're so I don't get frostbite."

"I know. But you won't get frostbite inside," says Eduardo gently.

Mark presses his lips together and slowly unwraps the fabric from his feet. He curls his bare toes and looks to Eduardo for further instructions, his brow furrowed distrustfully.

"Now step into this basin," Eduardo tells him.

Mark does so, with difficulty, given that his legs are tied together.

Eduardo fills the pitcher with water from the bucket. "Now I'm going to get you wet, then use soap to get you clean, then rinse off the soap," he says.

Mark squeezes his eyes closed tightly.

"It won't hurt," Eduardo promises him. "It'll just be cold."

Mark nods, and Eduardo begins to pour water over Mark's shoulders, down his back and his legs. Then he grabs a towel, dampens it, and sudses it up with soap.

"Have you washed like this before, with a pitcher and basin?" he asks, as he starts to scrub the dirt from Mark's elbow.

Mark shakes his head. "I just wash in the river, when it's not frozen," he says. "Is this how rich people do it?"

"Usually," says Eduardo. "But sometimes they have a whole tub filled with water and bathe in that."

Mark snorts.

Eduardo scrubs Mark's underarms, his hands, his legs, his bottom. Mark endures it stoically.

When he deems Mark sufficiently clean, Eduardo rinses him with another dousing of water from the pitcher, then has him step out of the now-full basin.

He hands Mark a towel. "Now for your hair," he says, then hesitates. "You've got lice."

"I figured," frowns Mark, drying himself off. "My head itches."

"We'll get rid of them," Eduardo assures him, and he has Mark dip his hair in the basin's water, then carefully lathers soap into Mark's curls.

After that, they need to wait.

"How long?" asks Mark.

"Fifteen minutes."

"I'm cold."

So they go and sit by the fireplace, and Eduardo tries not to stare too much at Mark, clean and naked, his hair covered in soap. He gazes into the fire instead, and absently touches his cheek, which is throbbing where Master Thiel hit him.

"Does he fuck you too?" asks Mark.

Eduardo whips his head around. "What?"

Mark is staring at the floor. "Does Master Thiel fuck you," he repeats.

"No," says Eduardo, and he's tempted to leave it at that, but— "Only once," he adds, very softly.

Mark frowns. "When?"

"I was fourteen."

"What was it like?"

"Um. He was really drunk," says Eduardo slowly. "I don't think he remembers it. Even _I_ barely remember it; it— it feels like it happened to someone else."

"Did it hurt?"

Eduardo shuts his eyes. "Yes," he whispers. "Yes, it hurt. He wasn't... gentle. At all."

"Shit," says Mark. "Shit, I don't—" His voice breaks, and suddenly he's crying. "I don't want to do it," he says. "I don't want him to fuck me; I've never been fucked before; I mean I've given blowjobs, like, for food, but never— I've never— _shit_." He wipes his eyes. Eduardo looks away. "There's really no way to get out of here?" Mark asks then, obviously fighting hard to keep his voice level. "No secret doors, or—?"

"There are guards at every exit," says Eduardo. "I'm sorry, Mark."

Mark sniffs, and wipes again at his tear-stained face. "I don't want to be a pleasure slave," he says. "I don't want to be a slave at all."

And Eduardo remembers being nine years old and newly-acquired by Master Thiel. Remembers crying himself to sleep, just wanting to go home, home to the father who sold him. "I know," he says. "I don't either."

Mark stares at him. "I'm going to escape," he says then, with resolve.

"Mark—"

"Maybe not right now, not today, but someday." He looks Eduardo in the eye. "I'm gonna be free again," he says.

Eduardo doesn't know what to say. "Take me with you, yeah?" is what comes out of his mouth. He's only joking, and he gives Mark a small smile.

But Mark's eyes are blazing. "I will," he says firmly.

Eduardo blinks.

Mark stands. "Now let's wash my hair."

***

When Mark's hair is rinsed and toweled dry, they sit in front of the nursery's high, arched windows and Eduardo goes to work brushing nits from Mark's hair with the teeth of the comb from the washroom. It's a long, tedious process, but Eduardo is transfixed by how soft Mark's hair feels under his fingers, by the way his curls glisten in the late-morning light.

"Where's the baby?" asks Mark.

"Hmm?"

"There's a crib in here; where's the baby?"

"Oh. He died," says Eduardo. "Along with his mother, in childbirth."

"Was it Master Thiel's baby?"

"Yes."

"And wife?"

"Yes."

"How long ago?"

"Five months."

"Has he got other kids?"

"No."

Mark nods slowly. "Was she nice?" he asks.

"Who, his wife?"

"Yeah."

Eduardo frowns. "Yes, she was. Though Master Thiel treated her horribly."

"Big surprise." Mark fiddles with the towel around his waist. "Does he have, like, any other slaves that he fucks?" he asks then.

"No," says Eduardo. "I mean sometimes he'll bring a boy home from a brothel or something, but you're the first, um... pleasure slave."

"Lucky me," says Mark, after a pause. He sounds like he might cry again.

"I'll stay with you tonight," says Eduardo suddenly. "After you're done, um— I'll spend the night in here. Instead of my quarters. So you won't be alone." He'll be dead if Master Thiel finds out, but he figures it's worth it.

Mark nods. "Okay," he murmurs.

They're quiet for the next few minutes, until Eduardo finishes Mark's hair. "You're good," he announces at last. "Lice-free."

Mark stands up, pulls the towel more tightly around his waist. "Is that all?" he asks. "Can I get dressed now?"

Eduardo nods, and holds out Master Thiel's shirt.

"No pants?"

"Master Thiel said—"

Mark rolls his eyes, snatches the shirt, and pulls it on, leaving the towel slung around his hips.

"And now I— I need to re-tie your hands before I leave," says Eduardo, apologetically. "In case anyone checks."

"You're leaving?"

"I'm sorry," Eduardo says. "I just— I have tasks that— if I don't do them—"

Mark sighs. "It's fine," he says. He holds out his hands.

"I'll be back tonight, to fetch you," Eduardo tells him, wrapping the rope back around Mark's wrists, as loosely as he can without making it obvious. He ties it in a knot.

"To fetch me," Mark echoes hollowly.

"Yes."

Mark looks away.

"I'm sorry," says Eduardo. "Mark, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry this is happening—"

"Stop saying you're sorry," says Mark.

Eduardo bites his lip. _I'm sorry_, he thinks. "Goodbye, Mark," he says. He opens the door of the nursery.

"Goodbye, Eduardo," says Mark, quietly.

And Eduardo leaves the room, bolts the door, and heads downstairs to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back in the day lye soap was pretty caustic and could kill head lice...i'm pretty sure normal soap these days can't though.
> 
> anyway, sorry all these setup chapters are kinda boring but i hope you are enjoying the story so far! leave a comment to let me know! like seriously, a comment will make me so so happy, you have no idea.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** rape (not graphic, but it's obvious that it's happening), mentions of injuries resulting from rape, mentions of blood

It's late that evening when Gretchen, Master Thiel's personal attendant, finds Eduardo washing dishes in the kitchen.

"Master Thiel is ready now," she tells him.

"For—"

"You know what for," says Gretchen.

Eduardo shuts his eyes. "Okay," he says, nodding. "Thank you."

He sets aside the plate he'd been scouring, wipes his hands on his trousers, and makes his way to the stairwell and up the stairs.

***

When Eduardo steps into the nursery, Mark is crouched on the rug by the fireplace, staring into the flames. He doesn't look up at Eduardo's entrance.

"Mark," Eduardo says. "Master Thiel has sent for you."

Mark doesn't move.

"Um. Mark, he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Mark sighs, then stands up and lets the towel around his waist drop to the floor. Wordlessly, his feet still tied together, clad only in Master Thiel's shirt, he approaches Eduardo. Eduardo opens the door and motions for Mark to go first, but Mark hesitates. So Eduardo puts a hand on his back, and they exit the room together, then begin to travel down the hallway.

"Don't talk back," Eduardo urges Mark quietly as they walk. "Don't make him angry. Just do whatever he says and it should be over soon."

Mark nods dully.

They reach Master Thiel's room and suddenly Mark grabs Eduardo's forearm with his bound hands. "Please," he says. "Wardo."

But Eduardo can't help him, can't protect him, not from this. "Mark, let go," he whispers. "If he sees—"

And Mark's eyes are desperate, pleading, but he lets go of Eduardo's arm.

Eduardo lifts his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open and there's Master Thiel, dressed only in a thin silk robe.

"Eduardo!" he says. "I thought I heard someone out here. And I see you brought our new little friend." He slaps Mark's already-bruised cheek and Mark stumbles backward. Master Thiel grabs his arm roughly to keep him from falling, yanks him into the room, and pinches his ass. Then he turns to Eduardo. "I should be through with him in an hour. I want you here when I'm done, ready to escort him away," he says.

"Yes, Master," says Eduardo, cringing internally. An hour? "Shall I wait outside the door until then?"

"Wait here or not, I don't care; as long as you're here when I send him out."

"Yes, Master."

"Very good," says Master Thiel. "We're going to have fun, aren't we, boy?" he asks Mark, leering.

Mark just glares at him, and Master Thiel laughs before slapping him again across the face.

Then he shuts the door, and it closes with a sickening thud.

For a moment Eduardo stands there in the hallway: helpless, powerless. Then he sits down by the door and waits.

He hears Mark say something inside the room, and then there's the sound of flesh against flesh: yet another slap. Mark cries out, and Master Thiel responds sharply, but Eduardo can't make out the words. 

He squeezes his eyes closed.

There are a few more slaps, and then the noises get markedly worse: Eduardo can hear Mark yelling "Stop" and "No" and "Please." He can hear him struggling. Sobbing.

Then Mark goes completely quiet, which is somehow even worse, and Eduardo can't take it anymore. He gets up, leaves his place by the door, and sprints all the way to the nursery.

There, he collects the used towels and dirty basin of water from earlier and carries them down to the kitchen, taking a route that doesn't bring him past Master Thiel's chamber.

In the kitchen, he grabs a clean basin and another bucket of water. He totes them up to the nursery. 

Then he returns downstairs and gathers a heap of fresh towels and blankets from the linen closet. He visits his own quarters and fetches his only other set of clothes from under his pillow.

After that he makes his way back up the stairs, re-enters the nursery, and removes the mattress from the crib. He lays it on the floor by the fireplace, and places the blankets beside it. He lights the candles mounted on the walls and the ones on the table, and stokes the fireplace. He places the bucket of water over the fire to heat it up.

Then, and only then, does he grudgingly head back to Master Thiel's room.

Seated by the door, he can hear muffled noises coming from inside: the bed shaking, Master Thiel grunting, Mark crying.

It's been maybe forty-five minutes.

Eduardo buries his face in his hands and waits.

***

When Mark finally emerges from the room, he's naked. His ankles are still tied, but his wrists are free, and he's got the shirt he was wearing earlier clutched to his chest with one hand. He isn't crying, but even by the candlelight of the hall, Eduardo can tell that his eyes are red and his battered face is wet. He glances down at Eduardo and gives him a silent look, so empty and broken that Eduardo averts his gaze.

"Eduardo," Master Thiel calls then from within his chamber.

"Yes, Master?" Eduardo responds. He scrambles to his feet and peers into the candlelit room, where he can make out Master Thiel's form sprawled across his bed.

"Close the door and bring the boy back to the nursery," Master Thiel commands with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And you're to report here tomorrow at noon for more instructions."

"Yes Master," says Eduardo. "Um. Goodnight, Master." He pulls the door shut.

Then he turns back to Mark.

"Come on, let's get away from here," he says in a hushed voice, reaching for Mark's hand.

But Mark flinches away. 

"Don't touch me," he says hoarsely.

Eduardo frowns. "Okay," he tells him. "Okay, I won't touch you, don't worry." He pauses. "Can you walk?"

"Yes."

"Okay, that's— that's good."

Mark is silent, motionless.

"Mark, let's go, okay?" prompts Eduardo. "Let's go back to the nursery; I have everything set up for you there, a bed and towels and clothes…"

Mark still says nothing, but starts to walk, and slowly, they make their way down the dim, deserted hallway to the nursery. Mark almost trips over his tied-up feet a few times, and it's all Eduardo can do not to reach out and steady him. But he keeps his hands to himself.

At last they arrive at the nursery and step inside. Mark stands by the door, trembling, his expression blank.

"Mark?"

But Mark just stares.

Eduardo sighs. "You know what, fuck Master Thiel," he says with sudden conviction. "I'm going to untie your legs." 

Mark nods vacantly, and Eduardo bends down and begins to unknot the rope around Mark's ankles. But he glances up briefly, and fuck. Mark's thighs are wet, smeared with blood and probably semen. Eduardo lowers his eyes and finishes untying Mark's feet with shaking hands.

"Come here, let's get you cleaned up," he says then, gently, standing. He guides Mark toward the fireplace and dips a towel in the bucket of warm water, then hands it to Mark. "Clean off your legs," he tells him softly.

Mark does so, and afterward stares down at the blood-streaked cloth. Eduardo delicately pries it from his fingers and sets it aside.

"Is there anywhere else on your body you want to clean?" he asks.

"My face," says Mark. His voice cracks. "He came on my face. Wouldn't let me wipe it off."

Eduardo grimaces, and hands Mark a second wet towel.

Mark takes it and rubs carefully at his bruised, beaten face. Then he reaches up, runs his fingers through his curls, and sighs. "It's in my hair too," he says, giving the towel back to Eduardo. "Can you get it out?"

So Eduardo folds the towel in half and gently, very gently, wipes the dried come from Mark's hair.

"Okay," says Eduardo. "You're all clean." He tries to smile reassuringly.

"No I'm not," says Mark, and that's when he starts to cry again. "It's— it's still dripping out of my fucking asshole," he says. "I can fucking feel it. Eduardo— fuck—"

"It's okay, hey, here," says Eduardo quickly, handing him another dampened towel. "It's okay," he repeats, though of course it's not okay, not at all, "just use that, good, that's it. And then I have some stuff for the pain."

So Mark finishes wiping his thighs, sniffling, as Eduardo gets out Dustin's medicines. He has Mark drink the contents of the blue bottle, and instructs him to apply the ointments from the orange and green ones.

"Thanks," Mark mutters when he's done. "That feels— it doesn't hurt so much anymore." Then he glances up. "Eduardo," he says, "are you still gonna stay with me? Here? Tonight?"

"If you want me to."

"I want you to."

"Then I'll stay."

"Alright." Mark's eyes are distant. "I'm gonna go to sleep now." 

He starts to put Master Thiel's rumpled shirt back on, but Eduardo stops him. "Wait. I brought other clothes for you," he says. "They're mine. In case— I thought maybe you wouldn't want to wear his shirt. And I figured you might want pants."

Mark nods. "Yes," he whispers. "Please."

So Eduardo gives him the clothes, and Mark pulls on the coarse tunic and trousers.

"And I made this bed for you," Eduardo tells him, indicating the heap of blankets and the mattress on the floor. "I mean, it's not really an actual bed, but—"

"Thanks," Mark says again. He drops to his knees and runs a hand over the fabric of the mattress, then slowly, tentatively, he curls up on it. He drags some blankets haphazardly over his body. "I've never had my own bed before," he mumbles. There's a beat. And then: "Eduardo?"

"What?"

"Will I have to do this every night?" Mark asks, his voice impossibly small.

_Yes, almost certainly._ "I don't know," Eduardo says. "Maybe not."

"But maybe yes?"

"Maybe."

Mark shuts his eyes, pulls the blankets closer to his chin. "But not forever, because I'm gonna escape," he says. "Someday. I swear to God, I'm gonna get out of here. We both are."

Eduardo just leans over and straightens Mark's blankets. "Goodnight, Mark," he murmurs.

Mark doesn't respond, and Eduardo wonders if he's already asleep. But then he hears a quiet little sob.

"Mark?"

"I'm fine," says Mark in a quavering voice. "Goodnight, Wardo."

Eduardo isn't sure what to do, what to say, so he doesn't say anything, just sits down in a chair by the fireplace next to Mark's bed.

And so the night passes: with Mark crying on and off, and Eduardo keeping vigil beside him, and neither of them sleeping at all.

And eventually, at last, comes the dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** somewhat explicit mentions of rape

As the sky begins to lighten and the snow-covered landscape turns pink in the dawn, Mark finally seems to fall asleep: his fragile sobs lapse into deep, even breaths, his shoulders relax under the blankets, and his expression grows soft.

Eduardo watches over him until the sun crests the mountains in the distance. Then he slips out of the room as quietly as he can, locks the door, and heads downstairs.

He returns to the nursery with a tray of food: porridge, bread, and a slice of cheddar cheese. 

Mark is still asleep.

"Mark," Eduardo says softly, setting the tray on the table. "It's morning."

Mark stirs under his blankets but says nothing.

"I know you didn't sleep very long, but I brought you breakfast."

Mark opens his eyes at that. "Breakfast?" he echoes hopefully.

"Yeah, you must be hungry, right? All you ate yesterday were those turkey legs."

Mark sits up in bed, nodding, and Eduardo hands him the tray and joins him on the floor.

For a moment, Mark just stares down at the assortment of food, like he doesn't know where to start. Then he picks up the bowl of porridge and, ignoring the spoon, lifts it to his lips. He slurps up the contents of the bowl with a level of focus verging on desperation, after which he licks it clean, sets it aside, and moves on to the bread.

"I have to go now," Eduardo tells him softly, regretfully. "I have work to do around the manor."

Mark just nods, tearing off a chunk of bread and shoving it into his mouth.

"I'll be back at lunchtime, hopefully. You'll be alright until then?"

Mark nods again, chewing, then swallows. "I'll be fine," he says.

Eduardo stares at him for a while, at his curly hair and bruised eyes and softly curved lips.

Master Thiel was right, Eduardo hates to admit to himself: Mark has beautiful lips. He wonders, fleetingly, what they would feel like pressed against his own.

Then he stands, blushing. "I— I guess I'll leave then," he says. "I wish I could stay, but—"

"But you don't want to get beaten bloody," says Mark, glancing up. "I get it."

Eduardo grimaces. "Right," he says. He pauses. "You're sure you'll be okay?"

"I'm _sure_."

"Maybe try to get some more sleep."

"I will."

"And put on more medicine if you need it."

Mark rolls his eyes. "Are you leaving or not?" he asks, biting into the cheese.

"No, I am, I'm just—" Eduardo sighs. He doesn't know how to put into words the tightness he feels in his chest when he looks at Mark, the desire to take care of him, to protect him, to— 

_To lie down beside him and hold him close and kiss him till he smiles_, Eduardo thinks, then frowns at the thought. He lowers his eyes. "I'll see you later, Mark," he says stiffly, and leaves the nursery, closing the door before Mark can respond.

He bolts it, and starts down the stairs, his cheeks warm. Then he pushes Mark from his mind as best as he can and gets to work on his morning tasks.

***

At noon, he reports to Master Thiel's chamber as instructed the night before. He knocks tentatively.

"Enter," comes a voice from within.

Eduardo enters.

Master Thiel is lounging on his bed, drinking from a glass goblet of wine. "So," he says, as Eduardo steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. "How do you like my new slave?"

Eduardo hesitates, unsure how to answer. "He hasn't caused any trouble, sir," he says at last, which seems like a safe response.

Master Thiel snorts. "You mean aside from trying to run away?"

Eduardo blushes. "Yes, sir."

Master Thiel snorts again. "He's an impudent little shit who doesn't know his place," he says. "But he'll learn soon enough."

Eduardo lowers his eyes.

"Isn't that right, Eduardo?" says Master Thiel. "Just like you did."

Eduardo nods. "Yes, Master."

Master Thiel gives a satisfied humph. "But," he goes on then, "as I don't trust him yet, he's to be your charge for the foreseeable future." 

"Yes, Master," says Eduardo, slightly surprised.

"You're to escort him wherever I request his presence. Otherwise, he's to be locked in the nursery at all times."

"Yes, Master."

"He's also to be naked at all times."

"But what about—" Eduardo starts before he can stop himself. Master Thiel raises his eyebrows, and Eduardo bows his head. "Sir, forgive me, but yesterday you allowed him to wear your shirt?" he says quietly.

"Yes, that was yesterday," snaps Master Thiel. "Then last night I saw him naked, and from now on he's to be _naked at all times_; are these instructions unclear in some way?"

"Even when he's alone, Master?"

Master Thiel's eyes flash darkly. "What part of 'at all times' is difficult for you to understand?"

"I'm sorry, Master," whispers Eduardo. "I understand, Master."

"Good. Now, regarding restraints, I don't think he'll attempt another escape, do you?"

"No, Master."

"Then the bindings won't be necessary, going forward."

"Yes, Master."

"As for your other duties... you're to clean him daily. I don't want my bed slave to stink."

"Yes, Master."

"And you're to feed him three full meals a day. He needs some meat on his bones."

"Yes, Master."

"It felt like I was fucking a goddamn skeleton yesterday," Master Thiel continues. He takes a sip of wine. "But fuck, he was good," he says then, gazing wistfully out the window. "Looked pretty as hell with his lips around my cock. And then when I fucked him... God, he was so fucking tight." 

Eduardo closes his eyes briefly. He doesn't want to hear this, doesn't want to have to think about this.

Then Master Thiel sighs, downs the last of his wine, and turns his head back to look at Eduardo. "I want him here every evening," he says. "Eleven o'clock, unless you're told differently."

"Yes, Master."

Master Thiel licks his lips. "You'll bring him naked and docile and ready to be fucked, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master Thiel."

"Good," says Master Thiel. "Well. That should be all, then, until tonight."

Eduardo nods. "Yes, sir. Thank you, Master," he says, bowing.

He waits for Master Thiel to wave him away, then exits the bedroom as quickly as he can.

He hurries to the kitchen and prepares lunch for Mark. Then he heads back to the nursery.

***

Mark is standing by the window, looking out at the snow, when Eduardo enters the room.

"Hey," says Eduardo. Mark turns.

"I have lunch for you," Eduardo tells him, holding out cutlery and a plate of chicken and green beans.

Mark takes the plate wordlessly and sets it down on the windowsill. Then he picks up the chicken breast with his bare hands and begins to eat, still standing up.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Eduardo thinks of the etiquette lessons he used to get, growing up in his father's manor. He wonders about Mark— if he never learned to use a knife and fork, or if he's just too hungry right now to care.

"What's wrong?" asks Mark, his mouth full of chicken.

"Nothing. Just— I met with Master Thiel at noon," Eduardo says.

"About me?" 

"Yeah."

"What'd he say?"

"Uh." Eduardo sighs. "He said he wants you to be naked. Even when you're not in his presence."

Mark gulps down what's in his mouth and narrows his eyes. "Fuck him," he says. "I'm not going naked in my own fucking room."

"Mark, he'll find out," Eduardo says quietly. "And he'll punish you."

At this, Mark glances over, contemplative. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"Will he punish you too?"

Eduardo just sort of shrugs, which makes Mark frown. "I'll go naked then," he says, taking another bite of chicken. "It's fine."

Eduardo finds himself staring. Mark cares? About whether Eduardo gets punished or not?

"What else did he say?" Mark asks then.

"Right, sorry, uh— well, he said you don't need to be tied up anymore," Eduardo offers. "So that's good. And he wants you eating three meals a day. But he also said—" He breaks off.

Mark chews his chicken and watches Eduardo expectantly. "Said what?"

"That he wants you in his chamber every night," Eduardo says apologetically. "I'm sorry, Mark."

"Oh." For a while Mark just stares down at his food. Then he shakes his head. "I never should've snuck into those fucking stables," he says. "Fuck, then I could have just frozen to death in the snow and died without ever fucking meeting Master Thiel."

"Mark, don't— don't say that," Eduardo murmurs. "Remember what you told me? That you never give up, ever?"

Mark shuts his eyes. 

"You're gonna get through this, Mark," Eduardo goes on, desperately. "And you're gonna escape, remember? We're both gonna escape; that's what you said."

For a while Mark gives no response. Then, haltingly, he nods. "You're right," he says. "You're right, it's just—" He puts down the ragged chicken breast and crosses his arms, shrinking in on himself.

He looks so small that Eduardo wants to cry. "Mark, can I hug you?" he asks softly.

"What?"

"I just want to hug you; is that alright?"

Mark stares at him a moment, then looks away and nods.

So Eduardo wraps his arms around Mark's bony shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "You're gonna be alright," he says. He buries his nose in Mark's curls. "As long as you don't give up, okay?"

Mark melts against him, uncrosses his arms. "Okay," he whispers, as he hugs Eduardo back.

And Eduardo stares out the window at the gray winter clouds, and hopes Mark doesn't see his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! comment to make my day and year and life


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** mention of non-consensual kissing and sexual acts

Mark is naked when Eduardo arrives that evening with his dinner. He's sitting cross-legged by the hearth, his chin in his hand, staring into the flames.

"Hi," says Eduardo.

"Master Thiel was here," Mark responds, tonelessly, without looking over.

"What?"

"I thought it was you when the door opened, but then it was him." Mark gives a sort of involuntary shudder. "He said he wanted to make sure that I wasn't trying to wear clothes."

Eduardo feels his stomach drop. "Were you?" he asks.

"No, I was naked," says Mark, to Eduardo's relief. "I got undressed as soon as you left this afternoon."

"So... he was satisfied?" presses Eduardo.

"Yeah. I guess."

Eduardo sits down beside him and hands him the dinner tray of bread and stew. Mark takes it and places it on his lap, but he doesn't start eating.

"He stayed for like an hour," he says softly. "He touched me, like, all over my fucking body. Then he kissed me. Then he made me suck him off." He glances at Eduardo. "Said he couldn't wait until tonight."

"Jesus," breathes Eduardo. "Mark..."

Mark shrugs. "At least it didn't hurt," he says. "And he didn't come on my face this time." He picks up a slice of bread from the tray, dips it in the stew, and takes a bite. "He just had me swallow."

"But still," says Eduardo, and then something else occurs to him. "Shit, did— did he say anything about your blankets, or the medicine, or—"

Mark shakes his head. "I don't think he noticed. He was pretty single-minded." He dunks the rest of the bread in the stew and eats it, chewing quickly. "But he said he'll be visiting me here often, so if you think he'll be angry if he sees the medicine and stuff..." 

"Yeah," says Eduardo. "I'll hide the bottles tonight." He pauses, frowning. "He said he'll be here _often_?"

Mark half-nods, half-shrugs, then raises the bowl of stew to his mouth and begins to drink it.

"Shit," says Eduardo. "I'm sorry, Mark, that's really unfair; you deserve to feel safe in your own room..."

"I'm a pleasure slave, remember?" Mark intones. "I don't deserve anything except getting fucked whenever my master pleases." He says it spitefully, mockingly, then glances at Eduardo. "But you're right," he sighs. "It's fucking bullshit. Everything here is fucking bullshit."

"Yeah," agrees Eduardo.

Mark finishes his stew and sets down the empty bowl. "Except for you," he says then, with a nonchalant shrug. "You aren't bullshit."

Eduardo blinks. "You— you too," he tells Mark stupidly. "I mean you aren't either."

Mark shoots him small, furtive smile. It's the first time that Eduardo's seen him smile. He has dimples.

There's a moment of silence.

Then Mark clears his throat. "If you have to go now, it's fine," he says. "I don't want to keep you from your work."

Eduardo glances at the clock on the wall of the nursery, and it's already eight o'clock. "Oh. Yeah I— I probably should. Get going. Yeah," admits Eduardo. He takes the tray and stands up. "I'll be back in three hours," he says.

Mark nods, then pulls his knees up toward his chest, and Eduardo finds himself staring at the bruises that travel down the side of Mark's body, angry and purple, where Master Thiel beat him yesterday.

He wants to say something, something comforting. But there's nothing to say. 

"Goodbye, Mark," he whispers.

And Mark just sighs, and Eduardo leaves the room.

***

Eduardo spends the next three hours washing dishes and dusting hearths and scrubbing floors and emptying chamber pots.

He thinks of Mark as he works, imagines his body unbruised, imagines trailing his fingers down the knobs of his spine and the curve of his ass, imagines burying his fingers in his curls and kissing his ears and nose and lips, those perfect lips, imagines Mark loving every second of it, and kissing him back, and—

Soon it's ten minutes to eleven.

Slowly, Eduardo puts away his mop and ascends the stairs. His feet feel heavy.

He finds Mark in the nursery right where he left him, seated by the fireplace with his legs folded up to his chest.

Mark glances over. "Is it time?" he says flatly.

Eduardo nods, and Mark stands up.

Eduardo's eyes flit to his dick for a moment, then up to his face. "Are you ready?" he asks.

Mark just scoffs. Then he takes Eduardo's hand, and they set off down the hall.

***

Master Thiel comes to the door wearing the same silk robe he was last night.

"Eduardo," he says in greeting, then turns to Mark. "You. On the bed," he orders.

Mark doesn't move, and Master Thiel takes hold of his shoulder. "I said get on the fucking bed," he growls, pulling Mark into the room and shoving him toward the bed.

Eduardo lowers his gaze.

"Eduardo," snaps Master Thiel.

"Yes, Master?"

"You'll be here in one hour to escort him back."

"Yes, Master." 

"Good. I'll see you then."

Eduardo glances up, and catches a brief glimpse of Mark sitting on the bed, his arms crossed, glaring at Master Thiel's back.

Then Master Thiel turns around, and shuts the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!!!! more to come soon; i know this is a short chapter


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** descriptions of rape, non-consensual degradation, and non-consensual watersports; mentions of injuries resulting from rape; mentions of blood

Once the door of Master Thiel's chamber is closed, Eduardo leaves. He feels like a coward, like he's abandoning Mark, but fuck. It's like torture, sitting outside the room and knowing what's happening inside but being unable to help, unable to do anything but listen.

So he visits Dustin for more medicine, goes to the kitchen for more water, and takes a circuitous route back to the nursery, avoiding Master Thiel's chamber. He puts the bucket over the fire and sits down in an armchair and waits. And waits. And waits, until a quarter to midnight, trying not to think about what Mark is going through at any given moment.

Then, at last, he makes his way back to Master Thiel's door, where he sits down and does his best to ignore the sounds coming from within.

***

Fifteen minutes later, Mark exits the room. His hair is wet. His eyes are dull.

"Eduardo," calls Master Thiel from inside.

"Yes, Master?"

"I'll be working in my study tomorrow," says Master Thiel. "You're to bring him there by nine o'clock in the morning."

"Yes, Master," says Eduardo.

"In the meantime..." Master Thiel adds, with something that sounds disconcertingly like a chuckle, "you'd better clean him well."

Eduardo glances at Mark, questioning. But Mark just scowls, grabs the doorknob, and shoves the door closed without waiting for an explicit dismissal from the master.

"Let's go," he mutters, yanking Eduardo's arm. He seems angry tonight, not broken, which Eduardo finds somewhat reassuring.

They head down the candlelit hallway, away from Master Thiel's bedroom, and as soon as they've reached the nursery and stepped inside, Mark wheels around and holds out an arm.

"Give me a fucking towel," he says. "There's piss in my hair."

"He pissed on you?" Eduardo asks, horrified, as he removes the bucket of water from the fire.

"Yes, he did, on my fucking head."

"Then you'll need more than a wet towel to get it off," Eduardo says quietly. "How about I wash you with soap; does that sound okay?"

Mark frowns, but nods. "Fine," he says.

So Eduardo grabs the bar of soap and the pitcher from the table. "Here, step into this basin," he tells Mark, indicating the empty tin basin by the hearth. "And we'll get you clean, don't worry."

Mark obeys, and Eduardo begins to pour warm water over his hair with the pitcher.

Mark shuts his eyes. "He made me crawl around on the floor and beg for his fucking cock," he says tonelessly, as Eduardo rubs soap into his curls. "Then he had me stop so he could piss all over my hair. Some dripped on the floor and he made me lick it up."

Eduardo doesn't want to hear these details, doesn't want to imagine Mark being humiliated like this, but he knows he owes it to Mark to listen. So he does.

"Then he told me to get back on the bed," Mark goes on, his eyes still closed. "And he fingered my ass. Then he stuck his fingers in my mouth and made me suck them clean."

Eduardo washes the suds from Mark's hair, after which he dips a towel in the water bucket and lathers it up with soap.

"And then he got out this piece of wood shaped like a cock," Mark goes on flatly, as Eduardo scrubs his shoulders with the soapy linen towel, "and he fucked me with it till my ass went numb. Then he came on my chest. And that was it, he sent me out and you were waiting."

Eduardo starts washing Mark's chest. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "I'm sorry he did those things to you."

"I still can't feel my asshole," Mark mutters, as Eduardo rinses the soap from his torso. "But it's probably bleeding again."

"Do you want me to check?" asks Eduardo.

Mark hesitates, then nods.

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes."

Very gently, Eduardo spreads Mark's ass cheeks to reveal the mess between them. "You are bleeding," he says. He gets a clean towel, dips it in the water, and hands it to Mark. "Here."

So Mark wipes his inner thighs, then his ass, and flinches.

"Does it hurt?"

"When I touch it."

"You should put on more medicine," says Eduardo. He hands Mark three bottles: blue, green, and orange. "Drink the blue one first," he instructs him. "Then remember, green goes outside and orange goes inside."

Mark nods, and Eduardo looks away to let him tend to his injuries in private.

"I'm done," Mark says at last.

Eduardo gives him a towel to clean off his hand, and another to dry his body. "Do you want me to spend the night again?" he asks.

Mark shakes his head, toweling himself off. "I mean, yes," he says. "But what if Master Thiel shows up at dawn to fuck me or something?"

"Right." Eduardo bites his lip. "You're right."

They stare at each other for a moment.

"I guess I'll go to bed then," Mark says at last.

Eduardo nods. "Yeah. I— I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay," says Mark. He takes a tentative step forward, and another, and another. Then he reaches out and folds his arms around Eduardo.

And Eduardo draws his naked body close and holds him tight, resting his cheek on his freshly-washed hair.

"We're gonna escape," Mark mumbles. "Soon. We _are_."

Eduardo rubs his thumb on Mark's shoulder blade. "Yes," he says. "Of course."

They hug for a long time, until Mark pulls away, seeming almost embarrassed.

"Goodnight, Wardo," he says, staring at the floor.

Eduardo runs his fingers through Mark's wet curls. "Goodnight," he says.

He wants, more than anything, to stay, but Mark is right, they can't risk it. 

So he leaves. He waves goodbye as he turns to go, and Mark waves back. Then he exits the room, bolts the door, and heads downstairs to his quarters.

***

Eduardo's room is small and dark and cold. There's no fireplace, no furniture at all except a bed, which consists of a straw-filled mattress, a straw-filled pillow, and a pile of blankets. High on the wall is a window, and on clear nights, Eduardo likes to stare up and watch as the stars pass by outside. There have been times when those stars felt like the only reason he had to go on living.

But tonight the sky is overcast, which means no stars, just dark purple clouds.

Eduardo sighs, and gets into bed, tucking the blankets in around his body as best as he can. 

No longer unbearably cold, he turns on his side, closes his eyes, and thinks about Mark. Not about Mark being demeaned and degraded and fucked till he bleeds; no, he thinks about Mark's dimples, Mark's lips, Mark's eyes shining in defiance. He thinks about Mark hugging him, confiding in him, trusting him. He thinks about escaping together, about running away to the city, away from Master Thiel. 

He imagines taking Mark in his arms and kissing him under a pale blue sky, free and safe at last.

And soon he falls asleep, and dreams of better days to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! please leave a comment if you desire :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** mentions of past gross food; (kinda public?) humiliation; implied/referenced rape; vague theoretical mention of suicidality

The next morning, Eduardo brings Mark an apple, bread, and some sliced ham for breakfast.

Mark eats the apple first, and when he's done, he holds up the core and squints at it. "I used to live on shit like this," he says, glancing at Eduardo.

"What do you mean?"

Mark shrugs and picks up his slice of bread. Takes a bite. "I mean I'd find apple cores and rotten vegetables and stuff in rubbish heaps and eat them. And I'd beg the baker for old bread. And I'd wait in the alley behind the butcher's shop for him to throw out the entrails."

"You ate entrails?" asks Eduardo, before he can help himself. "Were they cleaned?"

"Not necessarily," says Mark, with another shrug. He shoots Eduardo a look. "I was starving."

"No, of course, I'm not—"

"Fuck, I was so _stupid_ back then," Mark cuts him off, bowing his head and staring down at his plate. "I used to think I'd be willing to do anything to have enough to eat and a roof to sleep under. I thought if I could just be full and warm for once, I'd be happy." He draws a shuddering breath. "But I swear, I'd rather spend the rest of my life starving on the streets than one more fucking day with Master Thiel."

Eduardo squeezes Mark's hand. "I'm sorry," he says, because there's really nothing else to say.

Mark looks over. "Why?" he asks. "It's not your fault."

"Yeah, but. I'm still sorry." Eduardo pauses. "Mark, I have to go now," he says softly. "I wish I didn't, I just—"

"I know. You have work."

Eduardo squeezes Mark's hand one last time before standing up. "You finish your breakfast, and I'll be back a little before nine o'clock," he says. "For—"

"Master Thiel wants me in his study, yeah, I heard him last night."

"Yes," says Eduardo. "Right." He sighs. "Goodbye, Mark."

"Bye," Mark responds, and he lowers his eyes.

And Eduardo leaves the room, locks the door, and tries not to cry.

***

Three hours later, they're standing outside Master Thiel's study.

Eduardo gives Mark a grim smile, lets go of his hand, and knocks.

"Enter," says Master Thiel.

Eduardo opens the door. "Good morning, Master," he says.

Master Thiel is sitting at a desk strewn with papers. He looks up at their entrance. "Boy," he barks at Mark. "Under the desk. Now."

Mark glances unhappily at Eduardo, who averts his eyes.

"Don't make me ask again, boy. Get down here; my cock's not gonna suck itself," snaps Master Thiel.

Slowly, Mark trudges forward, his arms crossed, and kneels down in front of the desk. He shoots Eduardo another pleading glance before crawling underneath.

"Master, forgive me, but am I dismissed?" asks Eduardo.

"No," says Master Thiel. "You stay right there; I'm not done giving you instructions."

Eduardo shuts his eyes. A few moments pass.

"There, that's it," he hears Master Thiel say to Mark. "Do you like that?"

Mark makes an indistinct affirmative noise from his place under the desk.

"Then show me," says Master Thiel. "Moan like the little whore you are."

Eduardo opens his eyes and fixes them uncomfortably on the ceiling.

He hears a grunt as Master Thiel presumably gives Mark a kick to the stomach or something.

Then Mark starts to moan.

And fuck, Eduardo feels his dick getting hard, feels his cheeks getting hot. He imagines Mark moaning like that for _him_, and it's almost too much to bear. But no, he thinks then, Mark isn't enjoying this, he's only moaning because he'll be beaten if he doesn't, and he must feel utterly humiliated right now, being forced to give a blowjob with Eduardo as an audience.

"That's it," says Master Thiel as Mark continues to moan wantonly, "good boy." 

Eduardo just waits, until at last Master Thiel seems to remember about him.

"Eduardo!"

"Yes, Master?" Eduardo says quickly, lowering his eyes from the ceiling.

"You're to wait outside the door. When I'm done with him I'll have some letters for you to take with you."

"Yes, Master."

"Good," says Master Thiel, with a disturbing shudder of pleasure at whatever Mark is doing to him. "Then you're dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Eduardo nods and hurries from the room, closing the door as quickly as he can, but not quickly enough to avoid hearing Master Thiel say something particularly disgusting to Mark.

***

Eduardo stands outside the room, waiting for what feels like hours but is probably only fifteen minutes or so, until Mark emerges.

"He wants you inside," Mark mutters shakily. There are tears on his cheeks.

Eduardo touches Mark's arm briefly, consolingly, then enters the room.

"Ah, Eduardo," says Master Thiel. He hands him two sealed envelopes. "Bring these to the courier after you've escorted the boy back to the nursery."

"Yes, Master."

"And I'll see the two of you at eleven o'clock tonight."

"Yes, Master."

"You may go."

Eduardo shuts the door a bit harder than he'd intended and turns to Mark.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

Mark wipes his cheeks and nods, and they set off toward the nursery.

***

"He made me jerk off for him," says Mark, as Eduardo washes the come from his stomach with soap and water. "It was fucking humiliating."

Eduardo presses his lips together and continues scrubbing.

"And— fuck, I'm sorry you had to watch when I was—" says Mark.

"It's alright. I didn't really watch; I tried not to pay attention," Eduardo tells him, as he rinses off Mark's abdomen.

Mark sniffs and rubs his eyes. "Good," he mumbles.

Eduardo hands him a towel. Mark steps out of the basin and dries himself off, then ties the towel around his waist and sits down by the fire. Eduardo sits beside him, so his knee is touching Mark's.

"Does _anyone_ get to leave this place?" Mark asks softly.

"Some people," says Eduardo. "The cook. The guards. The courier. Some of the female slaves, like Gretchen; that's Master Thiel's valet. The girls who do laundry. And a few others."

"But not you."

"Not me."

"And not me either," sighs Mark.

Eduardo reaches out and takes his hand. It's cold. 

They sit there in silence for a few minutes.

Then Mark glances over. "How'd you become a slave?" he asks bluntly.

"Um." Eduardo swallows, hesitates. "My father... um. He sold me."

"Why?"

"Uh. He was drunk, and Master Thiel was drunk too, and I guess it started as a joke. But then when my father sobered up he realized he actually still didn't give a fuck about me, and Master Thiel was still looking for a boy slave, so." Eduardo shrugs.

Mark narrows his eyes. "That's fucked up," he says.

"I used to miss him," admits Eduardo quietly. "My father. I'd cry every night because I missed him so much. Even though he'd treated me like shit my whole life." He bites the inside of his cheek. "I was only nine; I didn't understand. I used to think— that if I was good, my father would want me back. Because when I left, the last thing he said to me was that maybe as a slave I'd finally learn to be useful to someone."

"You didn't deserve that," says Mark. "Your father sounds like a douchebag."

"He was right that I'm useless though," Eduardo whispers, and suddenly all the feelings of helpless desperation he's been repressing over the past three days bubble up in his chest. He starts to cry.

"What?" says Mark, sounding genuinely confused. "You're not useless."

"Yes I am. I can't help you," Eduardo sobs. "I just stand by and let you get raped, I just keep letting it happen—"

Mark snorts. "Yeah, like he wouldn't fucking kill you if you tried to intervene," he says. There's a pause. "Wardo," Mark murmurs. "Stop crying."

But Eduardo can't stop.

"Hey, listen to me," says Mark. He puts his hands on Eduardo's shoulders. "You're like the only person I've ever met who even _wanted_ to help me," he says. "You're a good person. You're seriously not useless. If you weren't here I think I would have tried to kill myself by now."

Eduardo looks up.

And then Mark kisses him. 

It's a warm, perfect kiss, soft and bruising at the same time, and for a while Eduardo just holds his breath. Then he comes to his senses and realizes what Mark is doing.

"Mark," he says breathlessly against Mark's lips. "Stop, we can't; if Master Thiel catches us—"

"I don't care," says Mark.

He takes Eduardo's tear-streaked cheeks firmly in his hands and keeps kissing. And Eduardo decides, in a rush, that he doesn't care either. 

Fuck Master Thiel. Because Eduardo has Mark. And Mark is worth anything.

Mark is worth everything.

And Eduardo pulls Mark close, and kisses him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!!! thanks for hanging on through all the angsty stuff in past chapters to get to the kiss lol. please leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** mentions of rape, mentions of physical abuse, mention of blood, mentions of physical injuries

From then on, Eduardo and Mark kiss as often as they can: desperate, secret, delicious kisses that make Eduardo's heart race and his cheeks flush every time.

Mark kisses like he has nothing to lose, and Eduardo kisses like his life depends on it, and sometimes they kiss so hard that Eduardo almost forgets to be afraid, almost feels like he's free.

***

But he's not free, of course. And neither is Mark.

Days pass, and they fall into a routine of sorts: 

For the most part, Eduardo spends his time completing his chores around the manor while Mark stays locked in the nursery. But three times a day, Eduardo visits Mark to bring him his meals, and then every night, plus whenever else they're summoned (because Master Thiel almost always ends up summoning Mark during the day as well, unless he decides to just visit the nursery himself), Eduardo escorts Mark to Master Thiel's chambers.

There, Mark gets raped and demeaned and abused. Sometimes he yells. Often he cries. Usually he ends up bleeding.

Eduardo grits his teeth and waits helplessly outside the room while it all happens, waits for it to be over, for Mark to emerge and Master Thiel to dismiss them both.

After that, Eduardo accompanies Mark back to the nursery, where he gently cleans him up, gives him ointments for his injuries, and does his best to be as comforting as he can, until eventually he has to leave.

And then the routine repeats itself— a sick, unpleasant routine, but a routine nonetheless— and slowly but surely, a week goes by, then a month, and then it's February.

***

"There are a lot of books in the study," says Mark one morning, after an hour of getting fucked and beaten over Master Thiel's desk.

Eduardo is carefully applying numbing cream to the skin of Mark's bottom, which is blazing red from repeated canings. "I guess so, yeah," he says. "I don't think Master Thiel ever reads them though."

"That's a waste," says Mark.

Eduardo frowns slightly. "Can you read?"

"Yes, of course," is Mark's clipped response.

Which Eduardo finds surprising, to be honest— from the one or two times Mark has spoken of his childhood, Eduardo had gotten the impression that he'd grown up in poverty, without luxuries like books or tutors. He hesitates, wondering if it would be rude to ask how Mark learned.

But then Mark tells him without prompting: "I taught myself. When I was a kid," he says. "Using a stupid book of prayers I stole from a traveling pilgrim."

Eduardo is impressed. He remembers fidgeting constantly during his reading lessons as a child. He'd much preferred mathematics; he can't imagine teaching himself to read without a tutor.

"I used to go to the bookstore in town and read all the titles on the spines," Mark goes on, then scowls. "The bookseller never let me touch because I was dirty. But I always wanted to."

"I could sneak you some of Master Thiel's books, if you want," Eduardo blurts out.

Mark turns to stare at him, and Eduardo doesn't miss the hopeful longing that flashes across his face before he schools his expression into something more skeptical. "Really?" he asks. "Aren't you afraid of getting caught?"

"No," says Eduardo, semi-truthfully, excited at the prospect of being able to make Mark happy, being able to help him in some tangible way for once. "I clean his study and library quite often. It shouldn't be hard to discreetly take some books. And like I said, he never reads them, so he won't notice if some are missing." 

"Shit," breathes Mark. "If you could..."

"Yeah, it's no problem," says Eduardo. He finishes ministering to Mark's bottom and moves on to his back, which is also striped red. "What kind of books are you interested in?"

"I want to learn Latin," says Mark immediately. "I want to learn everything, actually; I've never— I'm not, like, educated. But I'm really smart."

He says it so matter-of-factly that Eduardo has to smile a little. "I'll bring you some of everything then," he says. "Everything I used to study with my tutors."

Mark nods, then winces as Eduardo rubs ointment over a particularly raw stripe on his shoulder.

"Sorry," says Eduardo. "Did that hurt?"

"No," says Mark, and suddenly he wheels around and kisses Eduardo on the lips, open-mouthed. He tastes so good, so sweet, that Eduardo's breath hitches in his throat.

"You've never hurt me," says Mark at last, pulling away, frowning a little.

Which makes Eduardo's chest feel tight. "I never will," he says earnestly. "I promise."

Mark seems to think for a moment, then nods. "I know," he says.

And he tiptoes, and leans in, and kisses Eduardo again.

***

It's cold that night.

But it will be spring soon, Eduardo realizes, as he lies on his mattress and looks at the stars through his window.

It will be spring soon, and he's in love with Mark.

And with those two thoughts in his mind, he pulls his blankets tighter, and breathes in deeply, and drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! please leave a comment if you enjoyed; it will make me so happy!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** mention of physical injuries; implied/referenced rape; positive mention of weight gain; mention of vomit; depiction of non-consensual humiliation and degradation; sexual content

Eduardo brings Mark books: _Colloquies_ by Erasmus for him to learn Latin with, along with some smaller Latin grammars; Caxton's English translation of _The History of Troy_ and Arthur Hall's translation of _The Iliad_; and English versions of seminal mathematics texts by Euclid and Al-Khwarizmi.

Together, they hide the books beneath the cushions of the armchairs, and decide that Mark will only read in the washroom, so he'll have time to stash whatever he's reading under the tub if Master Thiel pays him an unexpected visit.

Over the next week, Mark consumes the books. At night, when Eduardo tends to his wounds and scrubs at his hair, Mark talks about the what he's learned, about geometry and Homer and Latin case endings.

It quickly becomes evident to Eduardo that Mark isn't just smart; he's a fucking genius.

He tells Mark so one day, tells him that he's a genius. Mark just shrugs, like he was already well aware, and goes on discussing advanced mathematical equations.

***

"When we escape, maybe you can study this stuff for real," says Eduardo one evening. "At university or something."

"Maybe," is Mark's only reply, but Eduardo can tell that he's pleased with the idea.

And Eduardo vows to himself to see to it that it becomes a reality. To see to it that Mark is given a chance to achieve something in life, because Mark is obviously brilliant enough to make something great of himself.

Maybe even brilliant enough to change the fucking world.

***

Mark gains weight. His hip bones don't jut out so much anymore, and his stomach doesn't sink in under his ribs. His cheeks are fuller, rosier. He stops eating with his bare hands, stops devouring his food like he thinks it might disappear if he doesn't.

Soon February draws to an end.

These days, Eduardo almost always arrives at the nursery to find Mark reading by candlelight in the washroom. (The exception is when he walks in on Mark getting fucked against the wall, or on his knees sucking Master Thiel off.)

But one morning, when he brings Mark breakfast, Mark is just standing by the nursery window, staring out at the early spring day, his hands pressed against the glass.

Eduardo's eyes linger on the skin of Mark's bare back, the bruises on his bottom. He feels a sudden desire to lay him down and press his lips to the nape of his neck, to plant kisses all down his spine, and all over his poor bruised ass, a thousand tiny kisses, then to spread him open and—

Then Mark turns around, and Eduardo can tell he's been crying.

"Mark," he says softly, setting down the food. "What happened?"

"It's March," is Mark's reply.

Eduardo frowns. "What's wrong with March?"

Mark shrugs, and goes back to staring out the window. "It was January when I came here," he says. "And now it's March. That's two months."

Eduardo takes a few steps closer to him and rests a hand gently on his arm.

"I haven't worn clothes for two fucking months," says Mark, in a brittle voice. "I'm tired of it. I'm tired of getting fucked all the time. I'm tired of everything hurting. How many more months till I can get out of here?" He pauses, glances at Eduardo, then adds, more quietly, "What if I never get out of here?"

"Mark, no," says Eduardo. "You're going to get out of here. We're going to escape."

"When?" asks Mark.

And Eduardo doesn't know the answer to that, but he pulls Mark into a hug and kisses him deeply. "Soon," he says.

Mark burrows his face into Eduardo's shoulder. "That's pretty vague," he observes.

Eduardo laughs a little, and then, recklessly: "How about, by summer?" he says. "By summer we'll be free."

"By summer," Mark repeats.

"Yes," says Eduardo. "I promise."

And he strokes Mark's hair, and tells himself that it's a promise he'll make sure he keeps.

***

***

Lord Manningham arrives at the manor on a warm afternoon in spring, when the trees are budding on the foothills and the birds are singing outside.

Eduardo is called to the drawing room to be briefly introduced. From what he can gather, Manningham is a childhood friend of Master Thiel's who needs a place to stay while passing through the countryside on business. He'll be dining at the manor and spending the night, then heading on his way. Eduardo bows politely and Manningham wrinkles his nose at him.

"Eduardo, fetch something small for our guest to eat as a late lunch," Master Thiel orders. "I'm sure he's hungry after his journey."

"Yes, Master," says Eduardo. He heads to the kitchens, where the cook is already preparing that evening's feast, and he waits as she puts together a quick meal of meatballs with saffron and a honey mustard glaze. 

He returns with the meatballs to the drawing room, where he finds Master Thiel and the guest reclined in armchairs by the fireplace, laughing uproariously.

They're talking about Mark, he realizes, as he gives Lord Manningham the food. About Mark's gag reflex. About Mark getting fucked in the mouth till he vomits. And they're fucking _laughing_ about it.

"Oh, Eduardo, you're dismissed," says Master Thiel belatedly, still chortling. 

And Eduardo bites his tongue, leaves the room, and tries not to vomit himself.

***

Eduardo is the one whom the cook tasks with serving the dinner, so a few hours later, he finds himself carrying a tray of appetizers out to the dining hall— fresh bread, sugared almonds, stuffed eggs, and plenty of wine. He sets the plates and cups on the table in front of Master Thiel and Lord Manningham.

"Is there anything else I can get for you, Masters?" he asks, taking a step back and inclining his head respectfully.

"Yes, actually," says Master Thiel. "If you could bring our little friend down; I've been telling Lord Manningham all about him."

Eduardo lifts his head. "Sir?"

"My pleasure slave," Master Thiel clarifies.

"You want me to bring him... here, sir? To the table?" says Eduardo, unsure what such a request portends but quite sure it's nothing good. Master Thiel has never summoned Mark downstairs before.

"That's what I told you," snaps Master Thiel. "Don't make me ask again."

"Yes, Master," says Eduardo, bowing slightly, and he turns and trudges up the stairwell.

***

"But you said he had a guest," says Mark, frowning. "I thought—"

"I know," says Eduardo. "But he wants you downstairs."

"Shit," says Mark.

Eduardo has to agree.

***

Eduardo watches as Mark stands uncomfortably in the dining hall before the two men, his eyes lowered, his hands clasped in front of his dick.

"Is he to your liking?" Master Thiel asks Manningham, with a vague gesture in Mark's direction. "If so, I thought he could pleasure us as we dine."

The other man nods with an appreciative noise of assent, visibly ogling Mark.

"Good. Right then. Come here, boy," commands Master Thiel.

Mark takes a few steps forward.

"No," says Manningham sharply. "Crawl."

Mark hesitates.

Master Thiel glances at Manningham, then back at Mark. "You heard our guest," he says at last. "Get down and crawl."

Mark hesitates another moment. Then, slowly, he lowers himself to his hands and knees and starts crawling toward the table.

It makes Eduardo's stomach turn to see him like this, like an animal or something, naked and crawling on the floor. 

Mark pauses when he reaches the table, and lifts his head to look at Master Thiel.

"Under the table," says Master Thiel.

Mark crawls underneath.

Eduardo can't see what's happening, but a few moments pass in silence, and then there's a slap and Master Thiel barks, "Our guest first, boy; where are your manners?" 

Eduardo hears rustling after that, and soon Manningham throws his head back. 

"Oh, God, yes," he says. "That's good." He looks over at Master Thiel. "You've trained him well; I'm impressed."

Master Thiel simpers as he eats some sugared almonds. "I know," he says.

Eduardo shuts his eyes.

***

They keep Mark at the table for the entire meal, making him suck them off and massage their feet and feed them bites of food. 

Eduardo is in and out of the dining hall, clearing plates and bringing new ones and refilling drinks. He tries not to make eye contact with Mark, tries not to watch what they're doing to him, but it's hard to avoid.

There's a moment at the end of the meal where Lord Manningham is sitting there sucking lemon pie from Mark's fingers while playing with Mark's dick, when suddenly he calls out asking for more wine. Eduardo approaches the table, and can't keep from looking at Mark's face, at his clenched jaw and vacant eyes. There are tears on his cheeks.

And Eduardo is two feet away, but he can't help him. Jesus, he can never fucking help him.

He drops his gaze, focuses on keeping his hands steady as he pours the wine.

"Eduardo, when you're done, we need more dessert," says Master Thiel, snapping his fingers.

"Yes, Master," whispers Eduardo.

He stumbles back to the kitchen, where he stands against a wall and tries to get his breathing under control.

He imagines killing them both, first Manningham then Thiel, imagines showing no pity as they beg him for mercy.

It's nice to think about. It's a good distraction from thinking about Mark getting raped and humiliated at the table.

But he knows it will never happen.

So he gives himself a few moments to collect himself, lets out a couple stifled sobs, then grabs a cherry tart and brings it out to the table.

***

When dinner is over, Master Thiel instructs Eduardo to take the dirty plates to the kitchen, then come upstairs and wait outside the guest room while they have their way with Mark.

Eduardo's stomach drops. He'd expected, perhaps naïvely, that they'd lose interest in Mark after dinner.

"Yes, Master," he says quietly, determinedly not looking in Mark's direction.

"Good," says Master Thiel. He motions toward the mess on the table. "Then get to it."

Eduardo watches as the men ascend the staircase, Master Thiel dragging Mark roughly behind him.

He hopes they'll be gentle.

But he knows that they won't be.

***

Eduardo sits outside the door of the guest chamber, and does his best not to listen to the raucous sounds of Master Thiel and Lord Manningham moaning and laughing and ordering Mark around. Mark speaks too, rarely. But mostly when Eduardo hears Mark's voice, it's just him crying out in pain.

He wants, more than anything, to take Mark in his arms and kiss his tears and keep him safe.

But he can't, of course.

So he plugs his ears and waits.

***

At least two hours pass before they finish.

When Mark finally opens the door and steps into the hallway, he's crying freely, with a purpling cheek and blood dried under his nose. He stumbles toward Eduardo like he can barely walk.

And tonight Eduardo doesn't wait to be dismissed, doesn't even shut the door, just pulls Mark's arm over his shoulders and puts his own arm around Mark's waist. He guides him along slowly, gently, and Mark hobbles beside him, obviously in pain.

Neither of them speak until they're safe in the nursery with the door closed behind them.

Then Eduardo kisses Mark's hair. "What did they do?" he asks quietly, lowering Mark into an armchair.

Mark just shakes his head.

"Where does it hurt?" Eduardo tries.

"Everywhere," says Mark, his voice raw.

Eduardo exhales. "Well. We'll get you cleaned up, at least," he says. He ghosts the back of his finger down Mark's wet cheek, then starts to make his way toward the water bucket hanging over the fireplace.

"Wardo."

Eduardo turns.

"I want you to touch me," says Mark.

"What?"

"Please," Mark whispers, twisting his hands in his lap. "My dick, my ass, anywhere; I just— I want to be touched by someone I like." He lowers his eyes. "I think it would feel good, if you did it. I don't think it would hurt."

Eduardo blinks. "You... want me to jerk you off?" he says slowly.

"Yes," says Mark.

"Are you sure?" Eduardo asks. Part of him wonders if they should wait, until some time when Mark isn't tired and in pain.

But Mark nods firmly. "I'm sure," he says. "Wardo. Please."

So Eduardo approaches him, bends over, and runs his hands over the crests of Mark's shoulders, the planes of his chest, the curves of his hips. Then he kisses him: first on his lips, then on his sternum, his navel, his soft inner thighs.

Mark lets out a whimper. His dick is getting hard.

Eduardo kneels down and trails his thumb up the shaft. "Is this okay?" he asks.

Mark nods. "Yes," he says, closing his eyes. "Wardo, stop stalling; just touch me."

So Eduardo touches him.

He touches him and touches him, and Mark cries, and squirms, and makes beautiful little noises, until finally he comes in Eduardo's hand with a gasp.

Then Eduardo pulls Mark to his feet and kisses him, one hand wet with come and the other tangled in Mark's curls.

"Thank you," Mark breathes, as they pull apart.

Eduardo looks at him, at his bruised cheek and wet lashes and wide, glistening eyes. 

"What?" asks Mark, frowning under Eduardo's gaze.

"Nothing." Eduardo shakes his head. Then he pauses, and pushes a curl from Mark's forehead. "I love you," he says. 

And Mark smiles, and they kiss again.

And outside the nursery window, the stars are bright in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed! :D leave a comment to make my day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** sexual content; descriptions of past domestic violence

Eduardo turns twenty-one in late March.

No one has celebrated his birthday since he became a slave, but Mark does, sort of, with a kiss and a blowjob and a tight, warm hug.

"I love you," he says.

Eduardo cries a little, and is pretty sure it's the best birthday he's ever had.

***

April passes, and May arrives.

One afternoon Master Thiel summons Eduardo to his room.

Eduardo heads to the chamber and knocks trepidatiously.

"Come in," calls Master Thiel from inside, so Eduardo opens the door.

Master Thiel lies in bed, propped up against his pillows, a crystal goblet in his hand.

He is, evidently, very very drunk.

"Do you know what today is?" he slurs.

"No, Master," says Eduardo, carefully.

"It's May 11th," Master Thiel tells him. "My wife's birthday."

"Oh." Eduardo hesitates, unsure how to respond. Master Thiel used to beat his wife black and blue, call her terrible things. Does he miss her? "Um. I'm sorry, Master," he says at last. "She was a good woman."

Master Thiel nods sagely. "I won't need the boy tonight," he says then. "Out of respect for her, you know."

It's all Eduardo can do to keep from snorting. Master Thiel never once respected Lady Thiel when she was alive, but he wants to try now that she's dead? "Yes, Master," he says. 

He waits to be dismissed.

But Master Thiel keeps talking. "Do you remember her hairpin?" he asks, his head lolling back. "Her ebony hairpin."

"Yes, Master," says Eduardo. Lady Thiel had had beautiful hair, and she'd always pinned it back with an ornate black hairpin.

"I wish to see it," says Master Thiel.

"Sir?"

"It should be in her chamber somewhere." Master Thiel lifts his goblet and some wine sloshes out. "I wish to see it."

"You— you want me to go to her chamber, Master? And find her hairpin?"

As far as Eduardo knows, no one has been permitted to enter Lady Thiel's chamber since her death.

But Master Thiel nods, and takes a large sip of wine. "Yes, go on then," he says, smacking his lips.

"Yes, Master," says Eduardo, and he leaves the room, his head bowed.

***

Everything in Lady Thiel's chamber is coated in a thin layer of dust. Eduardo checks her vanity first, but finds nothing. Then he heads to her nightstand, and begins to open the small wooden drawers.

In the second drawer, he finds a book. A diary, it looks like.

He pulls it out, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He flips through the pages, admiring the beautiful handwriting, then turns idly to the entry from May 11th of last year.

Eduardo begins to read:

"_My neck hurts terribly._

_He strangled me in bed last night, and I was sure he would kill me. However, he did not, I am fortunate to say— he soon bored of my screams and sent me from the room, saying that he did not wish to look on my face anymore._

_I gladly took my leave of him. As it was very late, the kitchen was empty, and I was able to go out to the garden and stay there awhile. The moon was full and very beautiful._

_Perhaps he will be kinder today, my birthday, but most likely not._" 

Eduardo stares down at entry, confused.

Lady Thiel was never permitted to leave the manor, ever, and yet here he has evidence that she went out into the garden at least once.

"_The kitchen was empty_," he reads again. He frowns. Did she exit through the kitchen? There's no door in the kitchen, as far as Eduardo knows.

But maybe there's a hidden one?

Eduardo feels a thrill travel up his body.

A way out, he thinks. There might be a way for him and Mark to get out.

The kitchen will be bustling with activity right now, in the middle of the afternoon, so he can't check. But tonight. Tonight he'll investigate, and see if he can discover a hidden means of escape.

He closes the diary, and puts it away, and he feels something bloom inside him.

Something like hope.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

***

At last he finds the hairpin in the lady's armoire, and returns to Master Thiel's chamber.

He's fallen asleep, and lies there snoring loudly, his goblet of wine spilled over his chest.

Eduardo sets the hairpin down on his bedside table and quietly leaves the room.

Then he runs to the nursery.

***

"Mark," he says as he bursts through the door.

Mark emerges from the washroom, frowning. "What's wrong?" he asks. "Did he summon me?"

"No," Eduardo says breathlessly. "No, you don't have to visit him tonight."

"What?"

"It's Lady Thiel's birthday and he's insanely drunk and he's got it in his head that he has to respect her today by not fucking you or something."

Mark blinks. "Shit," he says. "A night off. Shit." He smiles, and Eduardo kisses his dimples, then his lips. 

Mark kisses back, and starts to palm Eduardo through his pants.

"Take off your shirt," he says against Eduardo's mouth as he unbuttons Eduardo's trousers.

Eduardo complies, throwing his tunic to the ground and hastily stepping out of his pants.

They're both naked now, and Mark presses his body against Eduardo's, sucks at the skin of Eduardo's neck, stroking Eduardo's dick as he does so.

Then he sinks to his knees.

"I'm gonna suck you off," he says.

Eduardo nods eagerly, carding his fingers through Mark's hair.

And Mark smiles up at him, licks a stripe up the bottom of Eduardo's cock.

Then he takes him in his mouth and blows him.

***

Eduardo is on the brink of orgasm when the door swings open.

And there stands Master Thiel, swaying in the doorway.

Mark pulls his lips off Eduardo's dick, but it's too late: Master Thiel has already seen.

The man says nothing. But there's a vein pulsing in his temple, and his eyes are narrowed viciously. He takes a step forward into the room.

"Master—" whispers Eduardo. "Master, we weren't—"

Master Thiel grabs his arm. "I gave you one fucking rule," he snarls.

Eduardo shuts his eyes.

It's true. They'd been given one rule: no intimate touching. And they'd broken it. They'd disobeyed.

And now, Eduardo knows— now they're going to pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading!!! leave a comment to let me know your thoughts <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i updated earlier today too, so read that chapter first if you haven't lol
> 
> **warnings:** detailed depiction of physical abuse and resulting injuries, mentions of broken bones, mentions of blood, mention of vomit, vague suicidal thoughts

Master Thiel hauls Eduardo, still naked, from the room. He slams the door of the nursery closed behind them and bolts it. Then he drags Eduardo to the stairwell and gives him a violent shove.

Before Eduardo knows what's happening, he's hurtling down the stairs. He lands hard at the base, and his arm crunches beneath his body as his head collides with the marble floor. The pain is overwhelming.

Then he hears Master Thiel stomping down the stairs, and feels himself being yanked roughly to his feet. Master Thiel starts pulling him along by his broken arm.

"Master, please," says Eduardo weakly, tears springing to his eyes. "Please don't hurt Mark; it was my idea; he didn't want to do it but I forced him; I forced him to suck me off; he didn't want to, I swear; don't hurt him—"

Master Thiel scoffs. "Oh, I'm not going to hurt him," he says darkly. "I'm just going to fuck him till he doesn't remember your name."

Eduardo starts to sob, and Master Thiel slaps him, then twists his broken arm. Eduardo cries out in pain, but Master Thiel just continues to drag him along.

They eventually reach a part of the manor that Eduardo isn't very familiar with, and Master Thiel yanks him into a small, dark room with no windows.

No sooner have they entered than Master Thiel pushes Eduardo up against the stone wall and wraps his fingers around his throat. The door of the room is still open, letting in the dim light of the hallway, but Eduardo knows better than to try to make a run for it.

"Who do you fucking think you are?" growls Master Thiel, squeezing Eduardo's neck.

"I'm sorry, Master," Eduardo chokes out. He can barely breathe.

"You think you have any right to use _my _pleasure slave? To make him suck your own fucking cock? You think you deserve that?" His breath reeks of alcohol.

Eduardo desperately shakes his head. "Please—" he croaks.

"Because you don't," Master Thiel goes on. "He is _mine_."

And, one hand still pressed to Eduardo's neck, he punches Eduardo in the face, again and again and again. Eduardo's head slams back against the wall with every blow. He tastes blood in his mouth.

Then, at last, Master Thiel removes his hand from Eduardo's throat, letting Eduardo crumple to the floor. He stomps on Eduardo's fingers, hard, and Eduardo feels the bones breaking. 

With that, Master Thiel leaves the room and locks it. It's pitch-black, now that the door is closed.

Eduardo exhales. That wasn't as bad as he'd expected. 

But only a few minutes later, the door opens again, and this time, Master Thiel has a whip in his hand.

"Get on your hands and knees," he orders.

Eduardo obeys, trembling.

And Master Thiel whips him. Once, twice, three times, four times, five times—

Eduardo loses count somewhere around twenty, but the lashes continue long after that.

The thong of the whip travels down his back, over his ass, onto his calves. He hears someone yelling, begging, and realizes that it's him. He feels dizzy. His arms are shaking. Blood and tears are dripping from his face.

At some point Master Thiel stops whipping him and kicks him over onto his side. His shoulder collides with the stone floor, and Master Thiel begins to pummel his stomach and ribs and dick with the toe of his boot.

Eduardo just closes his eyes and waits for the pain to end.

Except it doesn't end. The blows do, finally, and Master Thiel says something that Eduardo is too far gone to understand before leaving Eduardo locked alone in the room. 

But the pain is sharp and raw and all-encompassing, never-ending. Eduardo vomits, and curls into a fetal position, his eyes squeezed shut in the darkness.

There, curled up, he cries, and cries, until eventually he sinks into a fitful sleep and dreams about finding Mark's corpse in the nursery, beaten to death as a punishment.

He wakes up screaming. _It was just a dream_, he thinks desperately. _He said he wouldn't hurt Mark, just fuck him. He said—_

Then the pain hits Eduardo anew, swallows him up, and he blacks out.

***

Eduardo comes to in agony. His head is throbbing, and every inch of his naked, battered body feels like it's on fire. 

He lets out a whimper of pain. 

Then, instinctively, he thinks of Mark again, and worry floods his chest. He starts to sob, and his body convulses as he cries, which just intensifies the aching of his whipped back and beaten ribcage. The pain is almost unbearable.

It _is_ unbearable.

He slips back into oblivion.

***

Days pass. At least, Eduardo thinks it's been days; there's no way to tell time in the pitch-black room. But he knows it's been a while.

No one opens the door to bring him food or water or even check on him. He doesn't really care though— everything already hurts; what difference do hunger and thirst make?

He sleeps sporadically, probably never more than a few hours at once. But mostly he just lies there, curled up tightly, and fights to endure the pain.

He wants to die, he decides at some point, and he suspects that Master Thiel intends to leave him here until he does.

He hopes that it happens soon, that maybe next time he falls asleep, he won't wake up. 

***

But he does wake up.

He wakes up to the door opening, and candlelight flooding the room.

He squints, trying to sit up in spite of the pain.

Someone is talking to him, kneeling down beside him, holding a candle in his face.

It's Mark, he realizes, except it can't be, because he's wearing clothes.

And then Eduardo understands: This is a dream.

"Shit," Mark is saying. "_Shit_. Wardo, what the fuck did he do to you?"

Eduardo tries to answer, but no words come out. He sinks back to the floor.

Mark kisses him. It hurts his swollen lips. He feels himself fading into unconsciousness, but then Mark slaps his face gently.

"Hey. Wardo, shit, stay awake. That medicine you always give me, where do you get it?" he's asking. 

Eduardo frowns. 

"Wardo," Mark says. "Please, this is important. Please try to answer."

"Apothecary," Eduardo rasps. "Dustin."

"Okay, where is he? Is he in the manor?"

"End of... long corridor by kitchen," grunts Eduardo. It hurts so much to talk.

"Okay, I'll be back," Mark says, standing up. "Eduardo, I'll be back, okay?"

"No," Eduardo mumbles. "Stay. I might... wake up... if you leave."

"Wardo, you're already awake, it's okay," whispers Mark. He sounds scared. "Shit. I— I'll be right back, I swear to God."

Eduardo tries to protest again, but Mark is already gone. He's left the door open.

Eduardo shuts his eyes, and tries to continue dreaming.

***

Someone is shaking him.

"Drink this," they're saying. It's Mark's voice.

Eduardo smiles weakly. He's still dreaming. He didn't wake up.

He drinks whatever Mark is holding up to his mouth. It tastes sweet.

Then Mark's hands are moving over his back, his ass, his legs, rubbing something cold all over.

It feels good, and weird. The lash marks don't hurt so much anymore.

Mark moves on to Eduardo's stomach and ribs, smears the cold stuff there too. It's numbing cream, he realizes. Dustin's numbing cream.

"This is a good dream," Eduardo murmurs.

"It's not a dream," says Mark, in a choked voice. "Wardo, I'm really here, okay? I knocked him out. Thiel. Or maybe I killed him, I don't actually know. Anyway, then I left his room and tried, like, every door in the manor until I found this one locked. So I picked the lock with some hairpin I'd taken from Thiel's room, and then I found you in here, and— and now we're gonna escape. I don't care if I have to murder the fucking guards or something; we're gonna escape, okay?"

Eduardo opens his eyes, confused. This isn't a dream? Mark is actually here?

He reaches up and touches Mark's lips. "You're real?" he asks.

"Yes, I'm real. Wardo— fuck. I— I love you." Mark kisses him again. It doesn't hurt so much this time. 

Mark re-corks the bottle of ointment and rummages in a large bag that Eduardo hadn't noticed before. He pulls out some shoes and pieces of clothing and starts to dress Eduardo.

"I'm sure this hurts," he says. "But— we can't leave with you naked." He puts the shoes on Eduardo's feet.

"Where... where'd you..."

"They're Thiel's," Mark mutters. "Just until we can get our own stuff somewhere." He finishes pulling a shirt over Eduardo's head, kisses his cheek, and says, "Okay. Uh. You're gonna have to stand up now."

Eduardo nods weakly, and Mark helps him get to his feet. Eduardo's knees nearly buckle beneath him, but he manages to remain upright with Mark's help.

Then Mark lifts up his bag in one hand and holds onto Eduardo with the other. Together they start to walk. Eduardo lets out a sob at the pain, but grits his teeth, and with his weight almost entirely supported by Mark, they make their way out of the room, down the hallway. 

As they reach the end of the hall, Eduardo suddenly remembers something, something which feels like a memory from another life: the diary. 

Lady Thiel's diary.

"Mark," he gasps. "Is it nighttime?"

"Yes," says Mark. "It's the middle of the night."

"You... you need to... go... to the kitchen..." Eduardo tells him brokenly.

"We have to escape first," Mark says in a placating voice. "Then we'll find food."

"No, no. Wait. Mark... there's... a hidden door... I think... in the kitchen..." Eduardo grimaces with the pain of speaking so many words at once.

Mark stops walking. "Wardo, I think you're confused," he says quietly. "You're the one who told me before that there's no way out of here, no secret doors."

"Yeah, but—" Eduardo feels like he might faint. "I just... found out. Before— before he— Mark. Please, just—"

Mark hesitates. "Okay," he says at last. "We'll, uh... we'll try it." He sounds uncertain, unconvinced. But he turns toward the kitchen.

Eduardo exhales in relief, and passes out.

***

***

Eduardo wakes up to the feeling of cold wind on his face. 

His unbroken arm is slung over Mark's shoulders, and he's being dragged along, his shoes trailing in the dust of the road. The moon is shining overhead.

They're outside, he realizes.

"Mark," he says weakly.

Mark stumbles to a halt. "You're awake," he whispers. "Wardo, you were right, there was a door in the wall of the kitchen. It was really, really well-hidden; I almost gave up looking; but then I found it, and it opened on a garden, which had a gate, and then—" His voice breaks. "Wardo, we did it," he says. "We escaped."

And Mark starts to cry, and then Eduardo starts to cry, and they kiss in the moonlight.

"We're free?" Eduardo breathes.

And Mark nods, and kisses him again, and smiles.

"We're free."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayyyy! thank you for reading!!! please leave a comment if you enjoyed! :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** mentions of injuries resulting from physical abuse, mention of injuries resulting from rape, implication of past rape, mentions of blood, mentions of urine

They keep walking along the dusty dirt road.

Eduardo's body doesn't hurt as much as it did earlier. It still hurts, but at least he's able to support some of his own weight now.

"Probably because that pain relief stuff you drank started working," says Mark. "The apothecary said it would take about thirty minutes to kick in."

Eduardo nods and continues to stumble along, clinging to Mark tightly to keep from falling.

They walk in silence for a while.

Then Mark clears his throat. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," he says. He sounds angry. "I would have, but he kept me tied up for two fucking days; the only reason he finally untied me at all was to tie me to the bedposts. But I was able to grab a vase from his nightstand and knock him out while my hands were free." 

"I'm just... glad you came," says Eduardo. He pauses, and remembers what Mark had told him earlier. "You said... he might be dead?" he asks weakly.

"Oh. Uh, yeah, after he was unconscious, I sort of kept hitting him over the head. Quite a few times. And I'm not exactly sure if he was still breathing when I finished."

"I hope... he wasn't," Eduardo forces out.

"Yeah," says Mark. "Me too. But I couldn't tell. So we need to be careful, in case he's still alive."

Eduardo nods again. "Where... are we going?" he asks.

"Town," says Mark. "The town I grew up in. After you've recovered more we can get further away, but for now... there's an inn there. The owners' daughter is nice; she used to give me food sometimes."

"How much... longer..."

"It's not too far now," says Mark. "Just over this hill."

They crest the hill, and sure enough, Eduardo can make out a town maybe half a mile down the road.

He sighs at the remaining distance.

"Wardo, we're almost there," Mark tells him. "You're doing great."

And they continue on their way.

***

The sky is beginning to lighten when they finally reach the inn. The front door opens on a deserted dining room, but a brown-haired girl is standing at the bar, holding a book, watching the two of them as they arduously approach.

She stares at Mark when they reach her.

"You're—"

"Yeah, I used to come here and beg you for food," Mark says wearily. "But now I've got money, and I need a room."

A room costs four crowns per night. Mark withdraws a coin purse from the embroidered bag he's been lugging around and pays the girl.

She takes the money, leads them upstairs, and shows them to their room.

"Is he... okay?" she asks, and Eduardo can feel her eyeing him in concern as Mark practically drags him along beside him.

"He's fine," Mark says brusquely. "Just give us a minute."

The girl nods uncertainly, and when they make it to the room, she holds open the door so Mark can get Eduardo inside.

"We start serving breakfast at sunrise, in about an hour," the says. "And there's water and towels to wash with over there if you need them," she adds, pointing to a small table by the fireplace.

"Thanks," Mark tells her.

"Have a good rest," the girl says, with another glance at Eduardo. Then she gives Mark the keys to the room, curtsies, and departs.

***

Mark guides Eduardo to the bed and lays him down.

It's a nice bed, very big and very soft, infinitely softer than the straw mattress Eduardo's been sleeping on for the past twelve years.

He watches as Mark goes to the table by the hearth and pours water from the pitcher into a cup.

"Drink," Mark says, returning to Eduardo's side. Eduardo drinks.

When he's done, Mark helps him roll onto his stomach and carefully undresses him, then digs in his bag and takes out a red bottle.

"The apothecary said this is to clean wounds and stop bleeding," Mark says, and he begins to rub it everywhere Eduardo was whipped. When he gets to Eduardo's ass, his hand stills. "Wardo, did he— did he do anything... sexual to you?" he asks quietly.

Eduardo shakes his head. "Just beat me," he forces out, then takes a deep breath. It hurts his ribs to breathe. "But Mark," he whispers. "He said... he was gonna fuck you... till you forgot my name."

Mark doesn't reply.

"Are you... hurt?" Eduardo asks.

"No," says Mark, unconvincingly, after a moment's pause.

"Yes... you are," says Eduardo. "Shit—"

"Wardo, calm down," says Mark, fluffing Eduardo's hair. "My ass has been better, I guess. And my jaw and throat don't feel great. But I'm fine, okay? Don't worry about me."

Eduardo closes his eyes, pretty sure that _my ass has been better_ translates to something more like _he fucked me bloody and it hurts to move._

"Mark..." he groans.

"Wardo, I said I'm fine," is Mark's terse response.

So Eduardo lets it go, lets Mark continue plastering him with ointment. When Mark finishes with the red bottle, he switches to the green one, and smears numbing cream over Eduardo's eye sockets and cheeks and lips.

Eduardo breathes a sigh of relief as the pain starts to fade from his face.

"I'll find a doctor for you later today," Mark tells him, closing the bottle. "But that should help a little, for now."

Then Mark flits away, and returns with a wet towel. He starts to wipe at Eduardo's thighs. "You smell like piss," he offers, by way of explanation.

"Sorry," mutters Eduardo, with a painful jolt of shame as he realizes Mark must have found him lying in a pool of his own urine.

Mark scoffs. "Why should you be sorry? You were locked up for three days in too much pain to move. And obviously you had to piss at some point." He kisses Eduardo's ear, sucks at his earlobe, and continues to clean Eduardo's legs.

Once he's done, he brings over another cup of water. "Are you hungry?" he asks, as Eduardo drinks awkwardly from his prone position. "I could ask that girl if she could make you something."

"No," says Eduardo, closing his eyes. "Wanna sleep."

"Okay," says Mark. "We can sleep. Let me just, um. I'll be right there." And he goes back to the other side of the room. 

Eduardo bends his neck and watches through his eyelashes as Mark pulls down his trousers. He takes out a bottle, pours ointment onto one hand, then bends over slightly and spreads his ass with the other.

Eduardo shuts his eyes, but he still hears the hiss of pain Mark lets out as he applies cream to his injuries.

He'd never complained, Eduardo thinks guiltily. He'd dragged Eduardo along for miles and never said a word about the probable agony that he himself was in as they walked.

"Mark," he mumbles. He wants to apologize, to say sorry for no doubt increasing Mark's pain, but he's so tired that the words don't come out. "Mark," he says again, instead.

"Hey, I'm right here," comes Mark's voice, and Eduardo opens his eyes to find Mark slipping into bed beside him. He's on the left side of the bed, the side where Eduardo's arm and fingers aren't broken, so Eduardo is able to reach out and touch his face. He's got a welt on his eyebrow, which Eduardo is careful to avoid with his fingers.

Mark's lashes flutter, and Eduardo trails his hand down Mark's neck, over his fine satin shirt. It's so fucking nice to see him in clothes, even Thiel's clothes.

At last he takes Mark's hand in his own, and Mark opens his eyes. They lie there quietly for a while, just gazing at each other.

Then Mark speaks. "You know, it might be my birthday," he says.

"Really?"

Mark nods. "I don't know the exact date I was born. But my mother always said it was sometime in mid-May. And today is May 14th, so."

"Happy birthday," whispers Eduardo. "Whenever it is."

Mark smiles. "Yeah. Freedom is a pretty good birthday present, I think," he says. "And getting to sleep next to you."

He leans in and kisses Eduardo's shoulder. Then he curls up, and Eduardo savors the feeling of Mark, so close and so warm. 

Outside the curtains, the sun is rising.

And together, side by side, they drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! leave a comment if you enjoyed! :D
> 
> also, in my mind the girl at the inn is erica, not that it's very relevant to the story lol
> 
> and may 14th really is mark's birthday


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warnings:** visit from a doctor, mentions of injuries resulting from physical abuse, fairly detailed discussion of injuries resulting from rape, mention of blood, mention of minor character death, description of nightmares, referenced past physical abuse, implied/referenced past underage rape

When Eduardo wakes up the next morning, his body aches, and sunlight is streaming through the window.

Mark is standing beside the bed with a man Eduardo's never seen before. 

"Wardo, this is Sy," Mark says. "He's a doctor."

Eduardo just groans something incoherent and squints at the sun outside.

"Hello, Eduardo," says Sy, pulling up a chair beside the bed. "I'm going to take a look at your injuries, if that's alright."

Sy reaches out, and Eduardo feels himself blush, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he's not wearing any clothes. Then he thinks of Mark, forced to go naked constantly for months on end, and resolves to get a grip. "Alright," he mumbles.

So Sy looks Eduardo over, sets and splints his broken arm and fingers, and touches his battered body with gentle, practiced hands. When he's done, he diagnoses Eduardo with a concussion, broken ribs, and some mild internal bleeding.

"But is he okay?" asks Mark, who's been hovering nearby the whole time. Eduardo doesn't miss the note of panic in his voice.

The doctor sighs. "Well, I'm not one to beat around the bush, so I'm gonna come right out and tell you: internal bleeding is bad. And there's no treatment. It'll either heal on its own or it'll kill you." Eduardo shuts his eyes. There's a moment of heavy silence. "But," Sy goes on, "in the most severe cases, it causes death within hours. And Eduardo, you're still here three days later, so that's a very good sign."

"So he'll probably be alright?" Mark presses.

"I'm hopeful," says Sy. "I'm very hopeful." He clears his throat, and turns to Eduardo. "Now, regarding your concussion, Mark said you were in and out of consciousness when he found you, but did you black out right after hitting your head, or only later?"

"Later," says Eduardo.

"Good," says Sy. "That's good; I'm not concerned about your concussion then; it should heal up nicely. Your broken ribs should heal too, as long as you breathe deeply despite the pain. I'm gonna be blunt again: If you breathe shallowly, your lungs could fill with fluid and you could die. So deep breaths, you got that?"

Eduardo nods.

"Good," Sy repeats. "That just leaves the lashes, which aren't pretty, but whatever cream Mark's been applying to them seems to be working well. So Mark," he says, directing his attention to Mark, "you should keep that up. Other than that, you really just need to make sure he rests. Unless the internal bleeding gets him, he should be all better in four to six weeks. But that's with constant bed rest, no exertion, and plenty of fluids."

Out of the corner of his eye, Eduardo can see Mark nodding fervently.

"That should be all then," Sy proclaims, standing up. "Feel free to see me if you have any questions," he adds to Mark. "You know where to find me. And Eduardo," he says, "I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you, sir," replies Eduardo.

The doctor turns to go.

But then Mark speaks up. "Actually, I do have another question," he says, very quietly.

"Ask away."

Mark seems to hesitate. "Okay, hypothetically," he says at last, "if someone has spent the past four months getting repeatedly, uh, anally penetrated, hard enough to cause, like, bleeding, tearing, that sort of thing, will it... heal?"

Eduardo feels his heart constrict. Sy looks over at him, frowning.

"Not him," says Mark.

The doctor's eyes snap back to Mark. "Would— would you like me to take a look?" he asks gently.

"No," says Mark. "This is hypothetical."

Sy nods. "I see," he says. "Well, it's hard to say for sure without looking at the damage, but anal tearing does generally resolve within about a month, barring any new trauma to the region."

"It just heals by itself?" Mark asks.

"Well, a diet high in fiber and water will loosen this person's stool, which is imperative. And this person should abstain from anal sex for the time being. But yes, injuries to the anus will heal by themselves."

Mark exhales deeply. "Okay," he says. "Thank you."

The doctor glances between Mark and Eduardo. "Look, I don't know where the two of you have been, but I'm glad you're not there anymore," he says.

"Yeah," Mark mutters. "So are we."

***

After the doctor leaves, Mark brings up a bowl of stew for Eduardo. He feeds him spoonful by spoonful, a process which he punctuates with long-suffering sighs whenever some dribbles on the sheets.

When the bowl is empty, Mark sets it aside and crawls into bed beside Eduardo.

They lie there in silence for a long time, Mark's nose pressed to Eduardo's shoulder.

"He said I might die," Eduardo murmurs at last.

"You're not gonna die," says Mark, fiercely. "That's bullshit. You're gonna get better, okay?"

He strokes Eduardo's hair, and somehow Eduardo believes him.

***

"How are you paying for the inn?" Eduardo asks that night, as Mark finishes feeding him dinner. "And the doctor? And the food?"

Mark laughs. "I'm not," he says. "Thiel is. I took his coin purse and everything else valuable I could find in his room. It's all in that bag I brought with when we left." He trails a finger down the splint on Eduardo's arm. "It should last us a while."

"How long?"

"I don't know, a year maybe?" says Mark. "Or longer."

Eduardo shuts his eyes. "Shit," he says, relieved. A year will be enough time for them to get on their feet, find somewhere to live, get jobs.

"Yeah," says Mark. There's a pause. "It's weird, actually. I've spent my whole life worrying about money. But now... like, I could buy books, if I wanted."

"You should," Eduardo says.

Mark just shrugs in reply.

But the next day, Eduardo wakes up to find Mark sitting by the fire, reading, a stack of books on the floor beside him.

Eduardo grins.

***

A week passes, then another.

Eduardo can wear clothes now without worrying about them irritating his wounds. He can sit up in bed without excruciating pain. And he can feed himself, though he's still clumsy with his left hand.

Sy visits again, and says he's healing nicely and the internal bleeding seems to be resolving itself.

"So I'm not gonna die?" asks Eduardo.

"No, you're not gonna die," Sy says. "I'm very confident that you'll be just fine."

Eduardo nods, his heart racing.

And Mark bends over and kisses him, right in front of the doctor.

The doctor just smiles.

***

May comes to an end, and summer begins, and one morning Mark flies into the room, his eyes alight. "I have news," he says.

"What?" asks Eduardo.

"Thiel's dead. I guess I killed him."

Eduardo lifts his head and gapes. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I heard people talking about it downstairs," says Mark, nodding eagerly as he slips into bed next to Eduardo. "They said he's been dead for a few weeks. His cousin inherited his estate."

"Jesus," breathes Eduardo.

Mark nods again, then cups Eduardo's cheeks and kisses him. "He's not gonna find us," he says against his lips. "He can't hurt us." There are tears in his eyes.

Eduardo inhales till his ribs hurt, and exhales deeply.

They're safe, he thinks to himself.

They're finally fucking safe.

***

Except sometimes he forgets.

Sometimes, in Eduardo's nightmares, Thiel is still alive: Eduardo is nine years old and Thiel is locking him in a closet overnight; he's eleven and Thiel is whipping him with a riding crop; he's fourteen and Thiel is pressing him down, reeking of wine, and pulling off his clothes—

But he knows that Mark has it worse.

Mark wakes up crying most nights, wakes up and pulls his knees to his chest and sits there hyperventilating. And Eduardo tries to ignore the familiar feelings of helplessness that come rushing back at the knowledge that there's nothing he can do to stop Mark's nightmares, nothing he can do but stroke Mark's hair and tell him he's safe. And some nights nothing he can do at all, because Mark doesn't want to be touched.

***

One night Mark screams out in his sleep, and Eduardo shakes him awake. "Mark," he says. "Wake up. It's just a nightmare, you're okay."

"Wardo," says Mark, breathing heavily, reaching up to touch Eduardo's jaw. "Fuck, I dreamed he killed you. I dreamed I found you in that room and you were dead, and—" He starts crying. "Fuck, Wardo—"

"I'm not dead," says Eduardo. "I'm right here. He's the one who's dead."

"I know," whispers Mark. "I know, just—" He draws a deep, shuddering breath. "I need you," he says.

"I'm here for you," says Eduardo. "I'm right here. I'll always be here."

Mark scoots closer to him in bed, and Eduardo kisses his tears. 

"Your feet are cold," Mark grumbles, but he doesn't move his legs. Eduardo laughs. Mark holds him close.

And tangled up together, they drift back off to sleep.

***

June goes by, and Eduardo gets better every day. He can even hobble around a little now, though he still stays in bed mostly.

"Read to me," he requests one evening, as Mark sits by the fire with a book in his lap.

"You know how to read," says Mark, without looking up.

"Mark," Eduardo whines. "Please? I'm an invalid."

Mark scoffs. "You can walk now," he says. "If you can walk, then I think you can sit up and read."

"But I'm tired," Eduardo wheedles. "And my ribs hurt today."

Mark sighs at that, but Eduardo knows he's won him over.

"_Fine_," Mark says, standing up and trudging over to the bed. He gets in beside Eduardo and pulls up the blankets. "Only a couple pages."

But Mark reads for at least an hour, about Odysseus and Aeolus and Circe, his fingers interlaced with Eduardo's.

Eduardo falls asleep to the sound of Mark's voice.

***

They touch each other often, secure in the knowledge that no one will open the door and make them stop: soft, languid, intimate touches in the safety of their room, just kisses and handjobs and blowjobs for now, but someday—

***

July arrives hot and humid, and Eduardo is almost completely recovered.

"I want to leave," says Mark one morning, as they eat breakfast in the dining room of the inn.

"Leave?"

Mark nods. "I hate this town. It reminds me of my shitty childhood. I—" He hesitates, stabbing idly at his eggs. "I hear there's a city a few miles west of here, where new things are being invented all the time." He looks up at Eduardo. "I'd like to invent something, maybe, someday."

Eduardo doesn't need any further convincing. "We should go," he says immediately.

Mark leans across the table and kisses him.

***

They leave the next week: pack up their remaining money from Thiel and set off early in the morning, when the dew is still on the grass.

And as they walk, hand in hand, all Eduardo can think is that they're free— really, truly free, with the whole world spread out before themand an actual future to look forward to.

They have a blue sky overhead, and money in their pockets, and clothes on their backs.

And they have each other. And really, thinks Eduardo— really that's all they need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! thanks to everyone who read this story! it was a lot of fun to write. leave a comment to let me know your thoughts; it would mean the world to me!
> 
> also!! i strongly reccommend that everyone go and read almostmagic's [**sequel to this fic**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20556902)!!! it's so good.
> 
> and feel free to check out my other works under [this account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundays) and [my other account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/facebook)!


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